Mines of Discontent
by twsterling
Summary: A Daniel story, set after A Hundred Days. Two stories in one: on Edora, and earlier in Daniel's life, in 1984-1985, when he was 19 yrs. old and a first year grad student at UCLA.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Stargate: SG-1 characters, concepts and storylines do not belong to me; only the original characters are mine. This story was written purely for fun: no money is being made. All financial consideration rights for Stargate characters and stories belong to MGM Entertainment. Names, characters and locales are used fictitiously.

Note: Daniel Jackson began his undergraduate years at age 16 at UCLA. The following story refers to a chapter from Daniel's life as he starts his first year as a graduate student at UCLA, at age 19. This story makes the assumption that it's either probable or at least possible that Daniel would not yet have developed his trademark theory about the Egyptian pyramids at age 19. His theory wouldn't have arrived fully formed, but would have evolved only after some difficult searching and personal trials. Another assumption is that his certitude about his theory did not _primarily_ come from the kind of hard, demonstrable, verifiable facts or data that is considered scientific evidence. Otherwise, we would have expected a better reception from the scientific community regarding his theory. Related episodes: _A Hundred Days; Prisoners;_ _Maternal Instinct_; _The Tao of Rodney. _

Thanks to M.C., L.W., and E.Q.

**Mines of Discontent **

**Chapter 1**

P5C-768.

The lights flickered, and then in the merest of seconds, both towers of the huge naquadah mining complex went dark. Within another few seconds, the extensive grounds area covering about one square mile was completely enclosed in darkness.

Five thousand inhabitants waited, paralyzed.

Just prior to the outage, O'Neill, Carter, Teal'c, Jackson and Dr. Frasier stood inside the complex discussing the reason they'd come to Edora: to investigate the occurrence of five suicides among the workers in eight days. And then the power went out, enveloping everyone and everything in pitch-black darkness.

Daniel asked, sounding stupefied: "What the hell is going on here?"

Jack spoke with a bite in his voice: "Five suicides, and now this. Damn it, what next?"

Carter spoke as calmly as possible: "The air filtration or life support systems may be affected. I'm going to find the building engineer."

Teal'c said, "I will accompany you, Major Carter."

o0o

Approximately twenty-four hours ago, SG-1 arrived on P5C-768, Edora, the planet where Jack O'Neill had once spent a hundred days, waiting for rescue. Within the year that passed, a mining treaty had been signed and naquadah extraction begun. Now, the order had come from the U.S. President's chief-of-staff that SG-1 should investigate conditions here and determine whether supervision was adequate. The administration feared that the agreement itself might be in jeopardy, and nothing had a higher priority for the U.S. administration.

SG-1 had already spent some hours investigating, analyzing and discussing the situation:

Janet: "Everything that's happened is suspicious. Five people committing suicide in eight days? I want to talk to the families."

Jack: "One of them put a bullet in his temple. Takes guts to do that. Or insanity."

Sam: "Another one stuck a knife in his heart. Who can _do_ that?"

Teal'c: "Indeed. The last suicide, death by hanging, was more traditional by Tau'ri standards but no less disturbing."

With potential health factors anticipated as a potential cause for the deaths, Dr. Janet Frasier was on board for the mission. She said, "I heard one of the men had a wife and three small children."

Daniel: "I heard that only one of them _didn't_ have children."

Jack: "Where did the worker who shot himself get the gun?"

Teal'c: "I have noted a contract requirement that any worker on Edora be permitted to own a firearm."

Jack: "Compliments of the U.S. administration."

Daniel: "Could the fire rain have anything to do with all of this?"

Carter: "It seems unlikely. Edora's fire rain occurs every year, with no known negative effects. The kind of meteor shower that caused such havoc a year ago, when we were here, only occurs every hundred and fifty years or so. But Janet and I will keep looking through the medical backgrounds, the environmental issues, and anything else we can turn up. We've only just begun to look at all the angles."

o0o

When the power went out, Sam and Teal'c left to find the building engineer by the light of flashlights. The seriousness of the situation was immediately apparent because even the back-up power was lost.

The building engineer, previously working in a mining facility in the U.S., had replaced the original building engineer two months ago when power problems first surfaced and emergency indicators started going off sporadically without any known reason. In two months he had learned a lot about the politics involved in the mining operation, especially the money issues and contract restrictions that complicated everything. For starters, he was the only experienced building engineer and his job included supervising a number of minimally trained "helpers." When Sam and Teal'c found him he told them, "You don't have to introduce yourselves, I know who you are. My name's McKeller."

Tall, silver-haired, with a medium-build and talkative, McKeller explained that this sort of thing had happened before and could have been prevented. "Damn it. Too many corners were cut building this place. Sub-par materials, inferior workmanship, design flaws, you name it. Everything about the construction of this place is below specification. It's a nightmare."

He stopped to call two helpers and direct them to the main generator room to check the indicator panel while he himself looked at the natural gas lines. He suspected some fraying of the main power cables followed by water seepage draining near the cables, causing a short which led to the blackout, and he planned to use battery-powered fans to dry the cables out. The problem with the back-up generator was a whole other matter.

"They hired the architect who designed a corporate headquarters on Earth, and then just duplicated the design plans, simply tripling the size of every dimension. It's ridiculous! The G-Tower has twelve floors but it's as high as a thirty-six story building on Earth. You know what that means? Each floor has ceilings three times higher than you'd expect. There _should_ be enough room, but a lot of it is empty space. Even with the remodelling they did later, saving money was the only real goal. They should have known it wouldn't work."

McKeller stopped to catch his breath, and then started up again. He said, "_Transplacement_ of a building from non-original blueprints designed for some completely different purpose has never worked and this mining complex is the perfect example." Granted, the engineering for the M-1 to M-3 mining levels was completely original, and they did some other minor modifications, but still: "They rushed everything through, there's too many design flaws. It just doesn't fit ... I mean, we're housing 5,000 people here!"

The mining complex encompassed2,400,000 sq. feet of workspace on a 50 acre parcel, set off some distance from the Edoran village. Not counting the M-1 to M-3 underground sub-levels where the mining was done, the U-Tower stood nine triple-size stories high and the G-Tower stood at twelve triple-size stories. After the devastation of the previous year's fire rain, the Stargate had been dug-out and the DHD recovered intact. The Stargate had been moved and was now positioned on the 11th floor of the G-Tower. A conveyor belt took the naquadah ore from the mining sub-levels beneath the U-Tower, under the Main Atrium and then through a winding tunnel inside the outer shell of the G-Tower up to the Stargate forexport.

Standing above the underground mining sub-levels, the U-Tower handled day-to-day concerns for the mining operation: supply rooms, equipment storage rooms, electrical rooms, mining and engineering equipment rooms and conference rooms. The U-Tower also handled food preparation, maintained a cafeteria and provided living quarters for the thousands of workers. UEC Corporate had their offices in the U-Tower, including the 9th floor office of the General Manager, who was the top UEC official, and the 4th floor office and work space for his assistant, the Manager-in-Chief. UEC's top man, the General Manager, functioned as the main liaison between UEC and the Representative Council, Stargate Command, and the marshal's headquarters here on Edora. His assistant, the Manager-in-Chief, acted as a more hands-on supervisor for the workers and was less visible outside the U-Tower.

The G-Tower held offices and luxury suites for members of the Representative Council from the various planets who had workers on Edora. The Representatives all had staff and so their needs occupied quite a large percentage of space in the tower. When Stargate Command personnel or SG units were on Edora, they stayed in rooms in the G-Tower. The G-Tower also operated as a for-profit luxury hotel, so that visitors from any planet could stay in the ultimate of comfort with all the amenities: luxury suites, shops, a gymnasium, a night-club, a barber shop, a beauty salon. The 5th floor even housed a full-size bowling alley along with a video arcade. A medical clinic occupied part of the 2nd floor. The Stargate sat on the 11th floor, and above was the 12th floor Presidential Suite, waiting empty until the day the American President made the visit he promised he would.

Sam asked, "Where's the original building on Earth?"

McKeller said, "Maryland? Delaware? Somewhere on the East coast." He shrugged, he didn't know for sure.

McKeller went on from where he'd left off:"Then you've got all the million demands to satisfy the General Agreement. Don't get me started on that subject. There's just so many competing interests. The company, the workers, the five different unions, the political angles from the Representative Council, the Edoran representatives, on and on. It'll make your head spin."

Mine worker contingents included groups from P2Q-463, P2X-416, P3A-577, P2A-509, PWW-98C, P26-007, a number of other planetary groups and a couple of dozen Edorans. There were also Americans and Russians, who generally filled management or lead-worker positions, had the proper clearances and had signed strict non-disclosure agreements; and a small number of non-mine worker Edorans, who by a provision in the General Agreement were granted key positions, especially positions as Gateroom Operators. In all, over 5,000 workers, administration and other staff had been assembled on Edora, with the work under the over-all direction of a company named Unified Edora Contractors (UEC).

McKeller told them,** "**There are five different unions and they all have a separate contract. That provision where the Edorans got key positions was a sticking-point, but now that it's in there it's iron-clad." He took off his eyeglasses and wiped them clean with a paper towel. "The inter-planetary, multi-union contract is two hundred fifty pages long, and that's only Part I of the nine-part agreement. It's called the _Edora Mining General Agreement_."

As McKeller talked they were walking by the light of his flashlight and lantern and their own flashlights, on their way to examine the back-up generator. McKeller went back to the subject of cost-cutting: "The reason for the architecture _transplacement_: cost cutting, pure and simple."

Sam: "Without regard for anything else, it sounds like."

"Exactly. And that titanium iris shield on the Stargate ... you know, don't you, that UEC didn't put a cent into it? They demanded it be built, but American taxes paid for it. Nobody else had any money. UEC's motto was, 'If you build it, we will come.' And they did, damn it! They got everything they wanted!"

McKeller could get himself quite worked-up. They went through an area adjacent to the mail room and arrived outside the building, where a shed housed the back-up generator. By the light of the lantern and their flashlights, the engineer inspected the back-up generator. He could see it was physically damaged, but why? He moved some equipment around, looking in all directions with his flashlight, and then said, as if musing to himself, "Well, how do you like that?"

Sam asked, "What is it?"

McKeller, pointing his flashlight up at the roof, said, "Look. Must have been a stray meteor strike. Came right through the roof."

They all stood looking up for a minute. He said, "This'll take a while to repair. We'll have to order some parts. But that's O.K., the main power should be back up within another hour. Maybe sooner."

They got ready to go back inside. Teal'c asked, "Mr. McKeller. Have you some theory regarding the cause of the suicides?"

The engineer had an answer ready. He said, "Well, the only reason anybody is here is for the naquadah, and the money it generates. I would say, follow the naquadah."

Teal'c answered back, thoughtfully, "Indeed."

o0o

Deputy Green had been dispatched by the marshal to investigate the U-Tower after a report of the smell of gas. He was tired from the long hours the job required, but still quite alert. He thought, eight more weeks and I'll be off on three weeks of personal leave. Back in the States, seeing my friends, doing the clubs, kicking back.

In his duty belt he carried a Monadnock expandable baton and a Glock 17. But he'd felt little confidence about being armed, lately, what with all the firearms he'd seen workers carrying all over the complex. And since the suicides, everything here was getting crazy. He thought, I don't care what anyone says, that _fire rain_ makes people crazy.

Using a flashlight, he went up through the U-Tower floor by floor. He stopped at the fourth floor crossover, watching the fire rain for a minute, maybe two; then it was Marshal Griggs, calling him on his radio. He answered, assuring the marshal he'd cover every floor and then check-in with a group of Representative Council members who were meeting with UEC's General Manager on the U-Tower's 9th floor.

...

Marshal Griggs was an African-American from Los Angeles and, at six-foot nine and over three hundred lbs.**,** he was the tallest and biggest man on the planet. Appointed as marshal to enforce the General Agreement provisions and maintain order, he found most of his time was spent functioning as a liaison between the Representative Council, SGC, UEC, the various worker unions, the Edorans, and now, SG-1. He had his hands full. Originally in charge of a team of ten deputies per shift, cost cutting now had it down to just three per shift; on his own shift, besides himself, he had only Deputy Sparks at the monitor console and the roving patrol, Deputy Green.

It was hard enough working under Earth's Council Representatives; officially he was under civil rather than military authority and answered directly only to the two Representatives from Earth. Those people, he swore, were complete idiots. They had almost no comprehension of the day-to-day realities here on the planet. But what made it harder was that he also unofficially answered to Stargate Command and to various Council Representative VIP's, who seemed to believe he worked exclusively for them. In fact, too often he got orders from three different directions, asking him to implement completely conflicting orders.

He and his wife, who was back in Los Angeles, had been trading audio discs via the Stargate to stay in touch, and after nine months she always summed-up what she was hearing in his descriptions the same way; she'd say, "It sounds like the usual chaos. It sounds like nothing's changed since the day you got there."

He'd been here on Edora since the inception of the mining complex, which was about nine months ago. But he didn't plan to be here much more than another six months, because he didn't like anything about the way things operated: he didn't like the role law enforcement played here, or dealing with the VIP's or the crazy way the General Agreement was set up or the cost-cutting that had his shift now down to the three of them. He didn't like UEC getting everything they wanted while everyone else had to wait in line, including the Edorans who were getting pushed around. Including his own headquarters office, which had hardly any funds to work with. Hell, he didn't even have an extra firearm to hand-out if a situation arose where he needed it. The marshal's HQ armory was empty; since the opening of the mining complex it had never yet been provisioned. He kept asking and he kept waiting but it never happened.

Besides all that, he missed his wife back in Los Angeles. The original plan was for her to eventually move to Edora, but that idea quickly dissolved as he saw how it was here. Six more months, he told himself, and that's it. He yawned, sleep deprivation had been taking its toll. He was glad to have SG-1 on site, he could use all the help he could get. Especially lately, since the suicides, and now this, reports of the smell of gas in the U-Tower. Not only workers but Representative Council members too had reported it. The problem, according to McKeller, was that the smell was diffuse, spread-out everywhere, but spread-out only on certain floors. It was as hard to explain as it was to track down. He decided to close his eyes for a few minutes. Sparks had things under control at the monitor console. SG-1 was out watching the fire rain, and again he had the comforting thought that he felt much better having SG-1 on site. He closed his eyes. He didn't know when he'd get another opportunity like this anytime in the near future.

...

Sam and Teal'c went out to join Jack, Daniel and Dr. Frasier, who were sitting outside the main Atrium, watching the fire rain.

Daniel said, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Janet responded, "Spectacular. I could sit here watching all night."

The fire rain would last for another few days. Edora's annual _fire rain_ was a meteor shower like nothing seen on Earth.

"I still wonder," Daniel said, "can it really be just a coincidence that they've had five suicides in eight days - I guess it's nine days now - and that this run of suicides has been exactly concurrent with the fire rain? How can there not be some connection? Maybe something similar to the effects of Earth's lunar tides, or maybe something more like our _full moon_phenomena on Earth?"

Sam still didn't think that was the direction to go; she was more inclined to see a connection to naquadah exposure, or something else that involved the mining operation's effect on workers. Sam had tremendous expertise on the subject of naquadah, from previous missions with SG-1 to on-going research she'd pursued on Earth, and she knew there were a number of cases on record with the naquadah factor that involved suicide. But their search for clues in this case, so far, had come up empty.

Sam didn't want to make Daniel feel as if his ideas were being dismissed out of hand, so she simply said, "We'll keep checking on things like that, Daniel, but so far ... nothing."

But then Janet spoke up, "Sam and I feel there's more likely to be some association with naquadah ... though we just haven't found anything so far."

Jack said, "I agree. Sam, you said that was the engineer's idea too, _follow the naquadah_ ... and the money."

Sam replied, "Sir, Janet meant that we want to continue looking for some biological or environmental connection which might involve the naquadah."

Jack replied, "Well, let's check both angles. You and Janet can continue searching for any kind of medical connection, and tomorrow Teal'c and I'll get out there and try to track down leads in case there's been any kind of outright foul play. If there was, maybe that'll still lead us back to the money issue - and the naquadah."

o0o

Deputy Green had checked every floor but found no smell of gas or any sign of anything out of order. He'd also checked with the Council members on the 9th floor, where they were meeting with UEC's General Manager in his super-size luxury suite. Finding everything in order there too, he started back down.

He stopped at a window on the 6th floor. From where he stood, he could see the members of SG-1 sitting outside the Main Atrium, watching the fire rain. Green looked out at the lit-up night sky. There were times, a half-minute here, a half-minute there, he thought, when it looked like a 4th of July fireworks out there. He had to admit it was a beautiful sight.

The floor was deserted and covered in darkness. He'd just started towards the stairwell when he heard something in the darkness at the far end of the hallway. A rustling, shuffling sound, like someone walking with flip-flops on, or clogs? Couldn't make it out. Whoever it was was at least 35 or so yards away and his flashlight helped very little at that distance, unable to pierce the shadows. He waited, looking, listening ... until he detected movement ... someone very slowly moving towards him. Green called out, "Hello? Who's there?" but got no response. Now perhaps 30 to 35 yards away, whoever it was was still covered in darkness. Green fingered his Glock and called out, "Hello?" but again got no response. He yelled, "Show yourself!" At 25 yards Green could now see a man, moving towards him, slowly, deliberately, with his eyes fixed on Green and with a gun raised right at him. The man had no expression on his face, looking stone cold and robot-like, completely focused with his eyes and his gun locked on Green. Green pulled out his gun and called out, "Stop! Identify yourself!" and once again, "Stop! Identify yourself!" No response, the man still moving forward. Green didn't want to shoot him but the man was now at 20 yards then maybe 17,16,15 ... when Green dropped to his knee and opened fire.

...

Some time earlier, back outside where they were still watching the fire rain,Daniel began to feel a vague unease, hard to pin down but gradually asserting itself as a presence in his psyche. It started when he got here, as turning the suicides over and over in his mind had turned to somber brooding. But he didn't exactly know _why_his thoughts kept pulling them there, or what it meant. As he sat quietly with the others tonight, watching the last nights of the fire rain, it occurred to him that it felt a lot like a migraine coming on, something he hadn't experienced since his college days at UCLA. It'd been so long since he'd had a bout with migraine he'd almost forgotten how rough they could be. Migraine or not, he wished he could pin down the source of his deepening unease.

Daniel said, "Jack, I'm going to take it in early. Been feeling kind of tired tonight."

Jack asked, "Just tired? Are you sure that's all it is? Daniel, even by flashlight you're looking a little green under the gills."

Daniel answered, "No, it's nothing. I'll see you all in the morning."

Sam, Teal'c and Janet said goodnight. Daniel left and Jack watched him go inside, wondering whether Daniel really was alright. Jack and the others went on watching the fire rain, enjoying it as some time passed and then finally, the power returned and all the lights came back on. There were cheers and clapping and smiles all around. And then, from the direction of the U-Tower, screams and shouting:

"There's been a shooting, there's a man down!"

"Up on the 6th floor! Call the medic!"

SG-1 quickly responded to the scene. Deputy Green was standing over the body, apparently a mining worker, shot three times in the chest.

Deputy Green: "I've never shot anyone before."

Sam checked his breathing and his pulse and said, "He's dead. But this time it's not a suicide."

Green: "He had his gun pointed right at me. Gave me no choice."

Teal'c was kneeling, examining the worker's gun. He looked up at Jack and said, "O'Neill, this man's weapon has no ammunition."

They all looked at each other, surprise and shock on their faces.

Jack, shaking his head in disgust, said, "It's another suicide. What we call _suicide by cop_."

o0o

Back in his room, Daniel was unaware of the latest suicide. When the power came back on, he paid little attention. When he'd retreated to his room by the light of a flashlight, his mind was elsewhere. For one thing, the migraine that had been shadowing him for hours was now beginning to hit him full force. Parallel to that, thoughts about suicide and certain memories preoccupied him. Daniel paced around his room, reflecting on events long past, including some very dark days, long before he'd ever joined SG-1.

Suicide was a subject Daniel had encountered before first-hand, a tangled tale that involved close friends from a time many years ago. It started when he was nineteen years old and just beginning his first year of graduate school in Los Angeles at UCLA. Daniel had thoughtthat story ended in Larnaca, long ago; then and there he'd let it all go and moved on. But could it be starting over again ... as if it were a recurring nightmare, back to haunt him?

Or was it just the migraine, making him vulnerable? He couldn't tell, but he'd already begun playing and replaying certain strange portions of that story in his mind over and over again, looking for something he may have missed, or misremembered, or misunderstood. He remembered that first day, how it started, the house on Selby Avenue, his roommates: Geyelyn Daericour, Rae Rae Mintz, Jonathan Herschell and an old girlfriend, Suzanne Bek. Also, particularly, Clemm Crawford, whose face came floating through his memory too often lately, as if Clemm's presence were stuck somewhere in Daniel's unconscious, with the reason why somehow precariously just out of reach.

Daniel sank back in his bed, his head pounding with the migraine. His mind drifted in and out of clarity, from the subject of the suicides, to old memories, of Suzanne, of Clemm. Until at some point he drifted off, into a troubled sleep.

o0o

Next morning, after Teal'c finished his morning session of kelnorim and found O'Neill, they joined Carter, Dr. Frasier and the medic in the Medical Office on the G-Tower's 2nd floor. Dr. Frasier was poring through computer files, trying to ascertain as much patient history of the deceased as possible. Sam was assessing naquadah in the blood of the men who'd committed suicide and compiling data for the naquadah levels of all other workers too.

Jack asked, "Getting any closer to finding a pattern?"

Janet answered, "Not yet. She walked over to a chart on the wall, which had a listing of each death. She said, "Before this began about nine days ago, there were no known cases of suicide here on Edora. Right now, the profile of the suicides looks like this: two took lethal doses of drugs, one shot himself, one put a knife in his chest, one hanged himself. Two were Vyans from Vyus, P2Q-463. They were the first. Then came the American, then the Russian. The fifth was from P2A-509. The last, the _suicide by cop_, as you called it, was an Edoran."

Teal'c said, "The death of the Edoran is most unfortunate."

Jack added, "You got that right. I hope that Edoran's death doesn't escalate the whole damn political situation here. Carter, what have you got?"

Sam said, "Well, sir, Janet and I are looking at environmental toxics as a trigger. Aside from heavy metals, we're interested in looking at the levels of polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, which are sometimes found in industrial discharge - things like chlordane, toxaphine, mirex, PCB's ... all very toxic.

"And mining can result in releases of cadmium and mercury - both toxic. We'll be looking for cadmium and inorganic compounds with mercuric chloride and organic compounds with methylmercury - which is the most toxic."

Sam looked at Janet who said, "Typical symptoms of toxicity include tingling in the hands and feet, then later, tunnel vision, slurred speech and problems with balance."

Sam continued, "And we'll also want to check into radionuclides - whether readings show more than what we'd normally expect as naturally occurring in the Edoran rock and soil or whether it's somehow occurring as a result of the mining - such as Polonium-210, Uranium-235 and Uranium-238."

Jack: "Carter, what's the bottom line here?"

Sam: "Sir, the bottom line is, we've got a lot of variables to check." She looked at the Colonel, wondering if she should continue, regarding the naquadah.

She said, "And then there's the naquadah factor."

Jack: "You're getting closer to the naquadah connection you were looking for?"

Sam: "No, the naquadah's another variable. Sir, none of these chemicals and compounds are likely to cause psychological imbalances on their own. They make people sick over time but no psychological manifestation is primary. As for the naquadah, every person on this planet has naquadah in their bloodstream. At low levels we've never observed any noticeable psychological effects, but put naquadah together with any of these other chemical ingredients and ... well, we just don't know. It'll take some time to analyze and interpret."

Teal'c: "Major Carter, where would these toxic discharges arise?"

Sam: "We should check any sites that have run-off for mercury and cadmium and we should check for chemicals from the sewage treatment plant, the waste incinerators, or any other points of industrial discharges. Also, we should look for sites on Edoran lands that may have naturally-occurring accumulations of anything toxic, that we can't account for otherwise."

Jack: "What exactly do you want me and Teal'c to do?"

Sam: "Sir, we need you to go out and take a lot of samples."

Jack: "O.K., you got it. After that's done, if we have time, we'll try to talk to some of the villagers. See how they feel or if they know anything."

Sam said, "That'd be good, sir."

Jack asked Dr. Frasier, "What's Daniel's status?"

"The medic checked-in on him and told me Daniel's pretty much incapacitated with a migraine attack. I'm planning to look in on him as soon as I get a chance, though that may be a while."

o0o

It was an early spring day, beautifully comfortable, with a clear sky, sunshine and a breeze in the air. Jack and Teal'c were combing the extensive mining complex grounds via specially-designed Segway vehicles, a powerful, super-sized model called the PT-ENV which was further modified by military engineers for rough terrain. Besides their larger size, the vehicles had super-charged motors and the most durable gyroscopic sensors to deter tilting.

They explored the adjoining lands surrounding the lake and a forested region covering about five square miles, working hard and efficiently and covering a lot of ground, stopping to inspect and take samples for chemicals, heavy metals, and various potential eco-toxins. They found sites with grimy run-off, sites with foul-smelling sewage, with garbage which was caked dry and strewn around everywhere and clumps of unrecognizable, foul-smelling liquefied plant matter. At one point Jack said, "Sam's going to love this." Teal'c responded, "She will not."

For many hours they continued to drive and scour the area. They were focused on their work and otherwise quiet for a long time, each man lost in his own thoughts. They continued making inspections and taking samples, increasingly aware that the damage might eventually outstrip what the planet could absorb. When SG-1 first came to Edora about a year ago, they had seen water lilies in the lake. Not anymore.

Teal'c had taken the time to scan large portions of the General Agreement. He knew the document included provisions to address the environmental concerns of the Edorans. For example, all refining was prohibited on Edora to reduce poisonous fumes and noxious gases, though he wondered if it was still being done "under the radar," as the Tau'ri would say. For certain, there was little in the way of enforcement of waste disposal regulations, with the rampant toxic drainage they'd seen. In any case, aside from the dangerous toxins, the influx of 5,000 workers was having a major impact on the planet.

Teal'c said, "O'Neill, there's potential here for significant ecological damage. Indeed, even for disaster."

Jack nodded, understanding full well what they were seeing.

Teal'c asked, "Why did they accept the Agreement?"

Jack answered, "T., I think they knew the mining would come whether they wanted it or not. If they got on board, at least they'd have a say in what happens."

With every clump of potential eco-disaster, Teal'c's heart fell further. He had only sympathy for these simple people, who seemed to be in a no-win situation. Jack was quiet too, lost in his own thoughts. His mood wasn't particularly bright, either. Teal'c had heard O'Neill talk, more than once, about the woman he'd known here on Edora while he waited for rescue. Her name was Laira. He wondered what she thought about the mining agreement, and about everything they were seeing here now? Teal'c asked, "And the woman you once spoke of ... Laira, do you intend to see her?"

O'Neill hesitated, vaguely irritated by the question. He said, "Good question, Teal'c. When I figure out my intentions, I'll let you know." And then he added, drily, "But thanks for asking."

They drove on, finishing up and then heading back. Jack thought, if he had a choice, he'd be in Minnesota, fishing. He'd been mildly irritated by Teal'c's question about Laira, but he knew the source of his irritation was with himself - because he'd not yet decided what he should do. Whether he should see her. It might just be a convenient excuse, but nevertheless, the current situation really did demand both his time and his attention. Even so, his top priority, as always, was getting Carter, Teal'c, Daniel and Dr. Frasier home again, preferably in one piece. It wasn't about seeing Laira or avoiding Laira, or about saving the planet from ecological disaster, though that'd be nice. His mission was to investigate the rash of suicides and then bring every member of his team back home safely. That was the priority, that was his bottom line.

o0o

The Manager-in-Chief for UEC and his top assistant, Che, were in the Chief's work office adjacent to his living quarters on the U-Tower's 4th floor. Che sat at the Chief's monitor console, monitoring the U-Tower grounds outside.

"Che, keep those monitors on the Segway drivers."

"Are they SG-1?"

"They are."

Unknown to the Colonel and Teal'c, as they moved from the inner grounds area into the outer grounds and on through the lake and distant wooded areas, they were under constant observation at almost every point, their movements under watch by the Chief's cameras.

Che was the Chief's most trusted comrade. More than a work assistant, he was an old friend, his "amigo" and confidant, the only one here who was privy to all the Chief's secret projects. He liked working the cameras, as much as he liked being the only one the Chief entrusted with this kind of assignment. If Che wasn't available to do it, the Chief would do it himself.

Che typically made a camera tour that went from thedock elevator to the delivery gate to the north and south mantrap doors, to the three mining level bulkhead doors and then on to a look at the mining conveyor belt at dock A and B. Although UEC was prohibited from installing cameras in the engineering rooms or anywhere in the G-Tower, they also maintained cameras, rarely used, covering the grounds outside. Che usually spent little time on the outside grounds, since the main focus was on the U-Tower interior which housed the workers and UEC's offices, but now he maneuvered the cameras in the plaza outside the U-Tower towards the outer grounds, which extended for more than a mile in the direction of the Edoran village.

Standard and disguised cameras were linked by fiber-optic cables directly to the Chief's office on the U-Tower's 4th floor: over two hundred cameras spread throughout the U-Tower, the mining levels below, and the grounds surrounding the complex. The extensive surveillance system was expensive, provided by UEC only because the Chief demanded it. It was essentially all aimed at the workers. Che felt like he knew every nook and cranny in the U-Tower and outside grounds, but privately he questioned the need for all the effort spent watching the workers. Once, just recently, he asked his boss straight-out, "Chief, why do we spend so much time watching the workers?"

The Chief responded, "Che, the workers are mentally and emotionally undisciplined, you know that as well as I do. Even our own men, our _legitimistas_, are not up to par - not up to the level they should be, and much less so the general workers."

Che said, **"**The Segways are moving out of camera range. Do you want me to activate the ultra-sonic sensors?"

The Chief answered, "Yes, follow them with the sensors and record their conversation on Recording Unit K, in case I need to analyze something later."

Che had been with the Chief a long time: they met in Mexico at the Universidad De Las Americas in Puebla, east of Mexico City. They had classes together but never spoke until they recognized each other one afternoon at the local shooting range just outside Puebla. The Chief's Spanish was strictly rudimentary, but Che's English was excellent. They introduced themselves and talked, but what first made the Chief an admirer was that Che was a perfect shot with handguns, and his ability with rifles was even more impressive. The only one who was a better shot than Che - was the Chief.

Che remembered how the Chief enlisted him for "the Cause" right then and there, that afternoon at the shooting range, and how they'd been together ever since. The Chief told Che his skill with deadly force was essential for his _Cause_, and so too, were his high ideals. Because in the eighties their ideals were those of revolutionaries. Che's real name was Ernesto, but the Chief told him, "I'm going to call you _Che_, after Ernesto _Che_ Guevara, the South American revolutionary. Che Guevara was a very great man." Yes, Che thought, at that time we were all revolutionaries, socialists, atheists, radicals of every stripe. But the Chief spoke of an entirely different kind of revolution, one that captured his imagination, just as it did for many others.

He remembered a daytrip with the Chief from Puebla to Mount Popocatepetl, which was southeast of Mexico City and a ninety minute drive from Puebla. They drove for miles mostly in silence, until they arrived at their destination. Fourteen monasteries stand on the slopes of Mount Popocatepetl. It was on that daytrip that the Chief first explained the nature of his experiments, how they fit into his plans, what it all meant and what their _revolution_ could do for ordinary people.

Che gave up everything - everything about ordinary life, to join the Chief. From that point, all that mattered was the Cause. As the Chief began to tell them then and told them still, "Let it be one for all and all for one, and one and all for the Cause."

The Chief, who'd been looking at another monitor, now looked up and interrupted Che's reverie. He asked, "Che, are our legitimistas on schedule with their exercises this morning?"

"They are, Chief."

"Forty-five minutes transcendental meditation, forty-five minutes zazen?"

"The T.M.'s complete, Chief, the zazen's in progress as we speak."

"Alright. Those unsatisfactory reports I've been seeing, has anyone been reporting late for work this week at the mining levels?"

"Just Elbanco and Ramiro, yesterday. Otherwise, all on time."

"Those two again," the Chief said, shaking his head. "Che, I've got some work to do in the surveillance equipment room. Call me if you need me."

The Chief walked out of the console room, his thoughts turning to his old teachers, Master Sunam Simun and Master Fu. The Chief had practiced zazen meditation under Zen Master Simunin Arizona in the Fall of 1986, until after six months he decided his work there was complete, telling Master Simun he knew "the sound of one hand clapping." He said he knew the sound because he'd heard it, "clear as a bell." The Master was doubtful and responded, "You misunderstand, that's not the kind of answer which signifies you've _seen_ your true nature. Furthermore, young man, it's not my practice to condone drug-fueled enlightenment." Looking skeptical, the Master added, "You have a long way to go before you'll have an authentic validating experience." But the Chief left anyway; he was traveling soon to Tibet. There he met Master Fu, who became his instructor in transcendental meditation and the bardos.

The Chief walked through his own personal work area, which took-up about half the U-Tower's 4th floor; he had 12,000 square feet of work space. He wished he had even more, because he needed every square foot of it for his experiments, and for everything else too. After leaving Che at the monitor console, he walked through a room that housed his own extensive kitchen facilities and proceeded through other rooms that housed a fully-equipped chemistry laboratory with controlled environment chambers, isolation chambers and his research greenhouse. His lab had everything: huge freezers, CO2 incubators, peristaltic and centrifugal pumps, ministat circulators, a DNA electrophoresis unit, enzyme freezers, a cross flow filtration membration system ... everything he needed or might ever need for his all-important experiments.

Ah yes, the experiments. Master Fu had criticized the direction he was taking with his experiments, challenging him at every step along the way. Master Fu told him: "The bardos of the after-life are nothing to play with. There's a danger in such experiments. A chemically enhanced road to ascension is playing with fire."

The Chief: "There's a lot at stake. I have to try."

Master Fu: "You haven't seen the emotional void of the soul-less ones. Chemicals subvert the development of the will." The Master spoke softly and delivered his words with his eyes looking up to the sky, his hands pressed together as in prayer. "Ascension must be freely chosen, and requires a strongly developed will.**"**

It was in 1987 that the Chief had come to Tibet; he'd arranged for a meeting with the Tibetan monk, who was addressed asMaster Fu. The Master had students from around the world and spoke several languages. The Chief wanted instruction in transcendental meditation and a chance to learn the bardos, the after-life stages described in the Tibetan Book of the Dead.

Master Fu: "After separation from the physical body, as we continue our journey through the bardos, our intention should be to reach the clear, white light of final release. The transit through the bardos is not the time to stop and experiment, you must keep going, past the ascended planes, to nirvana. Trying to ascend and re-enter the physical body, simultaneously, is extremely know nothing of _avichi_, which means _the waveless_. You risk getting trapped there, in that gray, twilight world without vibration. You could lose everything, and by that, I mean your soul."

Approaching his medical lab, the Chief stopped to move some equipment; it was hard to find a clear path. Later, he'd call Che in to help him rearrange some of the heavier pieces. He needed the coagulation, electrolyte, hematology and histology analyzers on one side, and the oscilloscopes and spectrum analyzers, the EEG and MRI machines on the other. The X-ray, ultra-sound and the various pieces of neurological diagnostic equipment could stay where they were.

He felt lucky to have everything his research required. He reached into a storage refrigerator and pulled out a human head, only partially decomposed. He checked the refrigerator's various compartment temperatures, which were each set for the optimum stabilizing temperatures for the various body parts: livers, hearts, brains and other human organs. The temperatures were fine. He double-checked the lower compartment holding several PVC bags of blood serum; it was set correctly, perfect at 37.5 F.

Next, he moved towards his walk-in refrigeration unit, where he stored his most prized pieces: two complete human cadavers, one in perfect condition, the other partially decomposed. They'd been excavated and retrieved from the Edoran burial grounds. He and Che had gone undetected and they were extremely careful; no one would ever know.

Again, the Chief's thoughts went back to Master Fu's admonitions, the criticism of his experiments, the skepticism towards his scientific method. Yet equally prominent in the Chief's memory was the Master's instruction in the practice ofTantric yoga. When he'd come to Tibet, intending to get instruction about the bardos, he'd got much more than he'd expected: Master Fu was knowledgeable about the Tibetan Buddhist yoga of Tantric sex, with its emphasis on developing the kundalini sexual energy towards the goal of enlightenment. In conjunction with this study, the Master directed long discussions and practice sessions focused on the Kama Sutra, with its description of positions for sexual intercourse and prescriptions for creating exotic, erotic atmospheres. Even more unexpected, Master Fu had an almost eccentric fascination with the subject of lubrication: he'd spent countless hours on the subject. The Chief laughed out loud at the thought of it.

He put those thoughts aside, he had to get back to the business at hand. He left his medical lab and finally arrived at a room that focused on surveillance. The room had bio-amplifiers of human metabolism used in conjunction with ultra-sonic sensors and transducers to measure distance and velocity. There were white noise generators, magnetic field generators and bionic smell generators. There was "bionic ear" equipment which used something like radar, bionic vision equipment, motion sensor equipment and special light sensors that could penetrate into the shadows. And the Chief's camera equipment was much more state of the art than anything in the marshal's headquarters office, using cutting-edge optics with a much higher resolution than ordinary cameras, and which had lens options similar to those used by NASA on the Mars Exploration Rovers.

Of course the equipment was expensive, but they had a benefactor who agreed to foot the bill if the Chief deemed the surveillance operation necessary. And the Chief insisted it _was_ necessary, to keep the workers in line. Directed mainly at the U-Tower, this now posed a bit of a problem for the Chief because there was no provision for everyone based in the G-Tower, including SG-1, which had its rooms and operations allbased in the G-Tower.

The Chief had SG-1 in his sights while they sat outside the Atrium watching the fire rain, and he had no problem tracking them while Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c rode the specially-designed Segway vehicles out towards the Edoran village. But inside the G-Tower he'd be blind, if he hadn't worked to find contacts, informers who were willing to take money in return for giving him valuable information. And it worked. Thanks to a handful of informers in strategic positions, the Manager-in-Chief knew when they were sleeping and when they got up, when they left their rooms and where they went, almost every minute of the day. The Chief considered himself a master of surveillance, and probably rightfully so.

As for the suicides that SG-1 was out investigating, the Chief had personal knowledge about how they occurred, though certainly, he wished it hadn't come to that. The suicides were bad news mostly because they brought SG-1 to Edora, and their arrival could move everything towards an all too soon end-game. He wasn't worried, he had plans and back-up plans. Nevertheless, plans or not, the Chief wasn't inclined to underestimate SG-1; there was more to SG-1 than the spineless, sniveling Daniel Jackson.

17


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter** **2**

The G-Tower's main dining hall served Marseilles bouillabaisse that evening. The members of SG-1, meeting at the prearranged rendezvous time, planned to review the situation over dinner, compare notes and try to make some decisions. Daniel was again missing in action.

Jack asked Dr. Frasier, "What's the status report for Daniel?"

Dr. Frasier: "He's still recuperating, but he'll be back with us tomorrow. I'll update him tonight on any conclusions we reach."

But there wasn't much new information, at least, not much of any thing helpful, and they were no closer to an answer. What Sam and Dr. Frasier knew was what they'd already known before: everybody had naquadah and toxins in their bloodstreams, but not enough to justify an expectation of adverse psychological effects. Which led back to the same question they'd begun with - why did some people react with symptoms and not others? What, or possibly who, was responsible?

Jack announced, "I know who's responsible: it's the _Rooshians_."

Sam asked doubtfully, "Sir, this information is based on ...?"

Jack: "I just know."

Teal'c: "O'Neill, is there any substantial evidence on which to ground your claims?"

Jack looked around the group, wishing he really did have something.

He said, "O.K. I've got nothin'."

Later that night, around 9 PM, Teal'c finished a session of kelnorim. He began to notice, by the time he was bringing his session to an end, that he felt slightly weaker than usual. He decided to do another half hour of kelnorim. Still, it didn't improve - it seemed to be getting worse. His vision seemed to be affected, his sight became "unclear," as if "filled with vapors." He couldn't explain it, and decided to go see Dr. Frasier in spite of the late hour.

...

9:00 PM on Edora translated to 9:00 AM Chicago time, as light years away on Earth, Adrian Conrad sat working at his desk in his corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago. Adrian was thinking how well the project on Edora had been going, better than he could have expected, so very smoothly in fact, until recently. Until the suicides. It didn't bode well, especially now that SG-1 was involved.

When Adrian first found out about the Stargate program, his eyes lit up at the prospect of the millions to be made. He'd learned the essentials of that highly confidential information through an old crony, an Air Force contact based in Colorado. What was his name, Colonel Fairborne? Colonel Mayberry? Something like that. He couldn't keep track anymore but his secretary would know, he couldn't manage without her. But it was that crazy "Manager-in-Chief" that made the operation on Edora possible: his competence in so many aspects of the operation, his ability and his willingness to do what he needed him to do.

Problem was, he didn't trust him. As he'd told his executive secretary, Marie: "The guy is a one hell of a flake. How can I trust a guy who doesn't seem to understand the value of money?" Adrian suspected the Chief had his own agenda, but what that was exactly, he didn't know. So, he had a manager he needed but who wasn't the kind of lackey he could easily control. And since the onset of the suicides ... well, complications would arise from the situation, that was a given. Adrian's plan now was to neutralize the complications, move on and get back to the business of making money.

Despite the little snafu on Edora, even without the money from the mining operation, he was still on target to make billions through scores of other profitable business ventures. He was a billionaire several times over. He could quit now, if he wanted, but sitting back and enjoying his wealth held no interest for him. He didn't intend to bemerely the wealthiest man in the world, he intended to live long and prosper. His goal: to be the wealthiest man in the universe.

And why not? He had the drive, and at this point in time he was still relatively young and in perfect health. He felt as fit as he'd ever been. He pressed the buzzer for Marie and she promptly walked into his office. He said, "Marie, make sure the driver is ready and waiting to take me to the gym this afternoon. The usual time. And when is that doctor's appointment for my annual physical scheduled?"

Marie glanced through the scheduling book she was holding and answered, "Next Tuesday, at 1:00 PM."

"Good. And get that scientific photography crew leader on the line for me, will you?"

"Yes, Mr. Conrad," as Marie left the room.

Adrian was confident that the little snafu on Edora would blow over. But if the problem there should snow-ball and escalate in his direction, well, he'd jettison the Chief without a second thought. That flakey bastard, he thought, better get things under control and soon, or else.

...

Late that evening, the Chief was working alone in the research greenhouse in his office workspace on the U-Tower's 4th Floor. Che sometimes helped him when he worked there, but the Chief had him in the mining sub-levels inspecting naquadah crates ready for shipment. As the Chief worked in the greenhouse, he was aware he had Adrian Conrad on his mind lately, more than usual. Things might soon reach that crucial stage when his relationship with Conrad might be tested. The Chief remembered the first day he met his boss, many years ago. Conrad told him about his plans, specific details for how he planned to corner this market or that market, how he'd accumulate his millions and billions. As time passed he'd made good on all of it; Conrad was a good businessman, no doubt about that. And he certainly knew how to hide his influence on a corporation, which was essential for their project here on Edora. Conrad's influence and control was virtually invisible.

But to the Chief, Adrian Conrad's all-consuming concern for money was a detestable waste. From the Chief's point of view, Conrad was simply a money-making machine with a limited imagination. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny Conrad's influence over him. He needed Conrad's money and was willing to do things he wouldn't ordinarily do, for the sake of it. Those were the facts, the Chief thought, and there was no way around it. Well, actually, there was a way around it, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to go there, just yet. There was still time to see how things would play out, still time to take a closer look and compare the merits of Plan A versus Plan B.

...

By 9:30 PM, SG-1 members had begun knocking on Dr. Frasier's door. First Colonel O'Neill, then Sam, and finally Teal'c knocked on her door, all exhibiting serious symptoms. Jack and Sam said they'd gotten drowsy, then went to bed only to wake up in sweats soon after they drifted off. Sam also reported having intermittent heart palpitations, and a strange taste in her mouth.

Jack: "I think I'm hallucinating. But it comes and goes. It's leaving me completely disoriented."

Sam: "Me too. It's even hard to walk. And I certainly can't think clearly. I'm starting to feel ... just drained!"

Teal'c: "Dr. Frasier. I'm experiencing unusual weakness. My movement is abnormally slow."

Dr. Frasier: "Any other symptoms?"

"Perhaps something I've heard called _tunnel_ _vision_. It's not constant, but at times it is difficult to see clearly."

Dr. Frasier got them on I.V.'s and kept them there in beds at the medical clinic's infirmary, where she could monitor them for the night. She didn't want to add to their anxiety and so didn't say what she was wondering: should she make the association that they were all demonstrating disturbing symptoms at a time when there had been six suicides in nine days? What symptoms would come next? Not to mention Daniel, who since yesterday night had not yet left his room.

There was something else. As she pondered the situation and tried to analyze everything she'd heard, shehad a hunch: what about the food? If they'd absorbed something into their systems, it may have come from the air, the water, or the food. There was the dinner they'd eaten ... Jack, Sam, and Teal'c had all ordered the special that night, the Marseilles bouillabaisse, except Daniel and herself. She had already eaten some cold pizza before leaving the medical office and wasn't hungry at dinner, some ice cream when they had desert was all, and she seemed to be the only one of their group who had no symptoms. Daniel hadn't eaten with them, but his seemed to be a completely separate case, with completely different symptoms.

Dr. Frasier wondered, if in fact it was the food - could this have been _deliberate_?

3


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was just after midnight. Dr. Frasier had done all that she could for her patients and at least now they were stable. She left Sam, Jack and Teal'c in the care of the medic and went to check on Daniel. Concerned about Daniel's condition and suspecting he probably didn't even know about the latest suicide, she walked towards Daniel's room, knocked, and heard him answer, "Come in."

She came in and said, "Daniel, there's been a shooting. Another worker's dead."

Daniel, speaking quietly as if lacking energy, managed to ask, "What happened?"

Janet explained, "It happened last night, just before the lights came back on. I would have told you, but I've just been so preoccupied with new patients in the medical clinic ..." as she told him about Sam, Jack and Teal'c's possible food poisoning, and then about what happened with Deputy Green. She told him, "Deputy Green shot a worker who apparently wanted to commit suicide. Jack called it a _suicide by cop_ because he came at Green with a gun that wasn't even loaded." She looked at Daniel to see how he would register what she was saying. She hesitated, then asked, "Daniel, how are you doing? I mean, how are you _really_ doing?"

Daniel answered, weakly, "Not good. I seem to be _down by migraine_."

"What are your symptoms?"

"There's apulsing headache, a sensitivity to light ..."

"Do you get what's called an _aura_ phase?"

"Yeah. It always feels like the sensitivity to light leads into a shimmering or crystalline patch in my field of vision. Then comes the throbbing pain." Daniel grimaced at the thought of how bad it might get.

"How long does it usually last?"

"One or two days for the worst of it. Some lightheadedness after that."

Janet asked Daniel to tell her the truth. He had to trust her, because they needed him healthy, the success of their mission might depend on it. "Let me in on it, Daniel. Tell me what's really going on."

"O.K.," he said slowly. "I guess you're right." He let out a big sigh. He settled himself in his chair.

Daniel said, "Well, it's the truth that I feel like I'm getting hit with one of the worst migraine headaches I've ever had. But I also admit that's not the whole story. I haven't had one of these knock-down, completely debilitating migraines in years. It's been ... I don't know, since I was nineteen or twenty years old."

"You have some kind of suspicion about why it started?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's just a feeling I have. Things have been coming to mind, things that happened and people I knew when I was that age - nineteen, twenty. Except for a few doctors, they're things I've never told anyone ... not even anyone close to me. Not even Sha're."

"Why not?"

"Because it didn't matter. Because I thought it was over and done with a long time ago. Because some of it's painful stuff."

"Do you think this could have triggered your migraine?"

"Maybe. I don't know what to think. But that story, right now that's all I can seem to think about."

"Would you like to talk about it? Sometimes that helps. I can be a good listener."

Daniel had been feeling miserable and thought yes, it might do him some good. But, he told her, it needed some context, it might take a while. He said, "The thing is, to me it's all connected - Geyelyn Daericour, how I met Clemm through Geyelyn, what happened with Suzanne. And Rae. To understand why it _matters_ to me you'd have to hear everything. How it happened, how it all developed. How it's all interconnected."

Janet said, "I think you should tell me everything. Your whole story. We'll stay up all night tonight, if necessary. I'll get a tape recorder so you can keep on going if I have to leave. But I'd like you to come over to my office, I need to be there tonight."

Daniel agreed to go and said, "I'll talk if you'll listen. There's only one thing I need ..."

Janet said, "Me too. I'll get the coffee."

They moved to her office and she got the coffee and also found her tape recorder. The transcription she made later included her own thoughts and interpretation and was set out as her own version, as a narrative in the third person, so that later it would be more accessible for her. She said, "Alright Daniel, let's get started. Go ahead."

Daniel said, "O.K., here goes."

...

...

He knew that Janet knew about his fascination with mythology, but not what he'd been working on then. He thought back and remembered scenes from that time in Los Angeles, how it started as he drove his motorcycle, a Honda 750, down Wilshire Boulevard, parked it and walked towards the house where he might soon be living, on Selby Avenue.

Things were so different then. Though his parents were gone by the time he was eight years old, their influence along with his natural facility for languages certainly was a factor in his predisposition towards Egyptology: Daniel was already a star at deciphering hieroglyphics when he first arrived at UCLA at age 16.

But his credentials as an original thinker in Egyptology were not yet established. His trade-mark theory about the origin of the pyramids had yet to be formulated. In fact, neither his Master's nor his planned eventual Doctoral thesis had anything to do with any novel theory about the pyramids.

Instead, in line with his linguistics and broad mythology background, he'd been studying the theories of mythology of the French anthropologist, Claude Levi-Strauss**,** and the grammatical deep structure linguistic theories of Noam Chomsky. Both Chomsky and Levi-Strauss, prominent world-wide in the 60's and 70's, remained influential for Daniel in the 80's, when Daniel was at UCLA.

The Frenchman, Claude Levi-Strauss, found that many myths had common themes and elements through history and throughout the world. The similarities made him theorize that myths were a kind of language, with constants that persisted through all the world's myths and through time. He was looking for an underlying structure for the myths of all cultures, searching for a "master order," an over-all pattern signifying a universal human nature.

Noam Chomsky, professor of linguistics at MIT, was searching for a "transformational grammar" which would be context-free and would provide the principles shared by everyone who used language. He was looking for the universal "deep structure" of language shared by all human beings.

Chomsky studied morphemes, the smallest linguistic units with semantic meaning, looking for one universal, transformational grammar. Levi-Strauss postulated "mythemes," fundamental units of myths that would remain constant through cultures and time, searching for one universal mythological structure.

For Daniel, the two theorists provided self-reinforcing models in the search for universality. If such universality in myth and language really did exist and he could "crack the code," he'd have a tremendous advantage, a tool to use in understanding the true meaning of any myth and in quickly deciphering and translating any language in the world.

He'd already begun serious work on the Indo-European proto-language, though the work was slow-going. In the course of his researches Daniel was also pushing ahead with the most advanced code-breaking techniques available. He felt he was on the verge, making progress toward one of his goals: translating Linear A. The Mycenaean Greeks on the island of Crete spoke a language known by linguists as "Linear A" before the evolution of "Linear B," and Linear A remained so far undeciphered. Daniel had every intention of being the first to crack that code.

He remembered that first afternoon in Los Angeles, parking his bike and walking through Westwood Village towards the house that had been advertised. He walked up the steps at 711 Selby Avenue, knocked on the door and so it began. He was a first year graduate student in anthropology at UCLA. Several hours in the Student Union building looking through bulletin board roommate ads had brought him here. It was Jonathan Herschell who answered the door.

Jonathan Herschell was tall with dark blonde hair. On the phone he'd said his concentration was artificial intelligence. He said he'd have so much coursework to do that Daniel probably wouldn't see him much, but that there'd be four roommates altogether: besides themselves, there was a philosophy student, Geyelyn Daericour, and a clinical psychology student who had the small third floor all to herself, Rachel Mintz. No one else would be back in the city until the following week, Jon told him, and so he would be making the decision about a new roommate himself. Anyway, he was the only official lease-holder.

They talked for awhile, Daniel got the grand tour, everything looked good and Daniel told Jon he was interested. Jon told him he could confirm it all now, and Daniel gave him a check for five hundred dollars, security deposit included. They shook hands and Jon said, "Welcome aboard."

Daniel first met Geyelyn Daericour, the roommate in the room next to his, on the night Geyelyn got back. Daniel was in his room when Geyelyn dropped by to ask if he had any cigarette rolling papers he could borrow. Daniel didn't, but invited him in anyway and in he came, a book in one hand, a guitar in the other, Geyelyn strumming blues riffs while they made their introductions, lighting a cigarilloand placing it in the tuning knobs at the top of his guitar.

"Welcome to 711 Selby, Daniel, I hope you'll feel at home. We've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

"Of course. It's no accident you're here."

Daniel began to ask why ...

"I just mean, Daniel, we _did_ advertise for a graduate student ... certain age parameters ... you fit our profile perfectly, I'm sure. Anyway, we're quite a congenial group, I'm sure you'll feel at home."

Geyelyn Daericour was a former Catholic seminary student turned philosophy graduate student. Geyelyn heard from Jon about Daniel's facility for ancient languages and had brought a book of hieroglyphics in with him. He said, "I've spent some time in Egypt. Managed to pick-up some hieroglyphics."

Odd, Daniel thought, as if one could "pick-up" hieroglyphics, just like that. Anyway, Daniel was surprised because one didn't ordinarily run into people outside of the field who could do hieroglyphics at all. Notwithstanding that Geyelyn's translating abilities wouldn't be quite up to Daniel's level, he was impressed.

They talked Egyptology, about methods of translating hieroglyphics and about Egyptian and Greek mythology. At some point Geyelyn edged the conversation into out-of-the-way subjects, concerning the sort of thing Daniel had never given any attention - obscure, arcane, esoteric subjects.

Geyelyn talked about the Eastern divinity Avalokiteshvara "in terms of abstract principle" and about "the five psychic powers," among them most prominent, the power to remember former births. He spoke of "monads" and "spiritual evolution" and of an order of spiritually powerful beings known as the "Lipika," or "Lords of Karma," and their earthly sub-agents who actually administer karma, who are known as the "Devarajas" or "Regents of the Earth."

He talked about enlightened spiritual Masters and "ascended beings," which was the first time Daniel had ever heard the term, and about the Egyptian pyramids, how they were thousands of years older than anyone knew, and about how they functioned as "light-houses" or possibly "docking stations" for celestial ships. Equally fantastical, Geyelyn seemed to believe that certain mythological personages, particularly Egyptian and Babylonian divinities, had originated or were somehow placed in positions of power by extra-terrestrial visitors.

It's all completely preposterous, Daniel thought; Geyelyn had no idea he was trampling over Daniel's most basic assumptions, which essentially fell in-line with traditional, mainstream beliefs. After all, he considered himself first and foremost a _scientist_. And yet,though Geyelyn's talk became more and more outlandish, Daniel kept on listening and not just out of politeness. Although he couldn't understand how someone who was obviously very intelligent and very bright could hold such views, there was something beyond simple charisma in the way he spoke. He held a certain authority, unexplainable but undeniable, almost as if he really did have some secret source of first-hand knowledge.

Geyelyn talked about the occult _initiations_: "In the esoteric literature, five initiations are traditionally recognized as universal, but we can illustrate by using examples from Christian tradition. In the life of Jesus, the first initiation is the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist.

"The second initiation is the transfiguration of Jesus on Mount Tabor, witnessed by Peter, James and John. It represents spiritual illumination, full enlightenment, and the physical manifestation is a scene flooded in celestial, white light.

"With the crucifixion we come to the third initiation, which is the trial of the spirit. The adept is in process of crossing the spiritual bridge to the other side." Geyelyn stopped to see what effect his subject matter was having on his new roommate.

Daniel's reaction to all of this was mixed. Though Geyelyn talked as if he were giving a lecture, his way of speaking was colorful and his subject unusual enough to pull him in. If nothing else wanting to be polite, Daniel said, "Go on, tell me more about the _initiations_."

Geyelyn went on: "The resurrection is the fourth initiation and it refers to the consciously chosen reincarnation of an advanced being. No longer under the pull of desire, one deliberately _chooses_ one's re-birth; even one's physical vehicle is specifically chosen. Jesus had full power over every incarnation and any further incarnation would be freely chosen and for one purpose only: to help others."

Daniel nodded, encouraging him to go on. Geyelyn said, "And the fifth initiation? That's represented by the _ascension_ of Jesus into heaven. It represents the final withdrawal from the cycle of earthly incarnations."

Daniel asked, "Do you believe that Jesus really ascended into heaven, that the apostles witnessed Jesus disappearing into thin air?"

Geyelyn said, "Yes, Daniel, I do. But the esoteric interpretation is that Jesus ascended not into heaven but into another plane of existence."

Daniel realized he must have looked by turns wrapped in skepticism and fascination as he listened - he had to admit he found Geyelyn's metaphysics thought-provoking. Then again, maybe it was Geyelyn's charismatic manner of talking that held him, more than anything else? He asked, "What do you really think of Jesus? The messiah, the Son of God, or one in a line of prophets? Or ... what do you think?**" **

Geyelyn answered slowly, and thoughtfully: "Jesus was young, focused, and haunted."

Daniel found he could brush off Geyelyn's ideas but not Geyelyn himself. Rather than simply dismiss him and all his ideas, Daniel decided to try to be patient, to maintain some distance and some objectivity and try to sort out the reasonably possible from the completely absurd.

o0o

Daniel, Geyelyn, and Jon had the second floor. Above, Rachel Mintz had a converted attic to herself. The first day Daniel met Rachel, she had just got back from a bicycle ride. She said she rode every day. Rachel went in to store her bike and came back with some walnut chocolate chip cookies.

"Wow, they're my favorite," Daniel said, as he took some. She was a grad student in psychology. When Daniel mentioned mythology, she talked about a Jungian psychology class that focused on the myth of the Holy Grail. Rachel said her emphasis was Jungian and apparently she knew everything there was to know about the Holy Grail myths. When Daniel talked about myths of the Hopi and a new archaeological dig in New Mexico, Rachel said she was interested in going to New Mexico to do a "vision quest" someday. She asked, "Have you heard of _vision quests_?" He had not.

She said, "You do fasting and go out alone into a wilderness area, find your own sacred place and search for a vision, a life-changing revelation. That's my idea of _direct action_, you know?"

Rachel talked about psychology and dream interpretation, which interested Daniel because she had a method. Not only did she have her own method for interpreting dreams but she'd done research on the subject of "conscious dreaming." "You ought to keep a dream journal," she said. "If you do, I'll help you interpret your dreams. We'll find out all your innermost secrets, all your deepest desires, we'll get to know everything about you that you don't even know yet about yourself."

She knew about all the world's religions including Babylonian gods and goddesses and Freudian and Jungian interpretations that might be applied. She could match him, Daniel thought, intellectual interest for intellectual interest, and surely they'd get along. She was busty, with dark, sultry looks. Very attractive, Daniel thought, but it was a considerably dangerous proposition, getting involved with a roommate. As if reading his mind, she asked whether he was "involved" with anyone? He told her he wasn't, that he was very much available.

She invited him to go with her to a science fiction film series starting that weekend, featuring the films of Kubrick and Jean-Luc Godard, Spielberg and Ridley Scott, Cronenberg and Andrei Tarkovsky. Did he want to go?

Daniel said, "I'd like that. It sounds great." He was already beginning to feel he was lucky to have found this place, that he'd feel comfortable and would enjoy being here. He said, "You know, I feel as if, you know, what a lucky accident that I've come to be here."

But Rachel said: "Get this into your frontal lobe right now, Daniel: there are no _accidents_, lucky or otherwise."

She seemed nice, Daniel thought. She said, "People call me Rae Rae."

o0o

Some evenings Geyelyn and Daniel went out in the city, enjoying the last warmth and lingering daylight of October, tossing a Frisbee around at HolmbyPark. More than once Geyelyn talked about his exotic background: he said he was born in the Virgin Islands, on St. Croix, and, if he was to be believed, his father had been a Catholic priest. They moved and he grew up in the little skiing village of Badgastein, Austria and he'd attended but been expelled from a Catholic seminary.

Daniel thought, one can hardly tell what's really true from what's been embellished, or where embellishment leaves off and pure fiction begins. As the weeks passed, Daniel and Geyelyn were becoming good friends. Geyelyn began calling Daniel "Mensch," as in, "Mensch, you simply must read George MacDonald's forgotten novel, _Lilith_;" or "Mensch, let me give you a true account of my astral travels."

Geyelyn and Daniel went out in the evenings, exploring their Westwood neighborhood and Geyelyn continued his talks, which were more like lectures, while they walked. Geyelyn told Daniel the essential influences on reincarnation were: the law of evolution, the law of karma, and the force of personal ties of love or hate. He talked about astral vibrations, "trishna," and "the mystic chord."

"Mensch, your real name, your occult name, is a unique combination of sounds, producing a mystic chord." And then later, "Mensch, you're not planning to remain single all your life, are you? Well, knowledge of your mystic chord is essential in finding your twin flame."

Geyelyn also talked about Edgar Cayce. Daniel had heard of Cayce, a famous psychic known as a healer who also apparently made valid predictions about the future, but he'd never given that kind of thing much attention. Geyelyn went on: "Cayce was known as the _sleeping prophet_ because he gave his readings in a trance or a semi-sleep state. He was famous as a healer but he also spoke of Atlantis and of soul mates or _twin souls_, as he called it. Before Cayce there was Plato, who in his _Timaeus_ described Atlantis in detail. And in _The Symposium_ Plato tells the story of the _twin flame_, about how human beings came to be separated from half of what used to be their whole, and how ever afterwards we search for that other part of ourselves in a particular person who can fulfill and complete us, which is our twin flame."

o0o

Rae and Daniel had been going each week to the student union film series, featuring "The Greatest Science Fiction Films of All Time." He was finding the films engaging enough; some of them were even quite absorbing. But what he found even more intriguing was someone he'd noticed in the auditorium, before the lights went down. He caught the eye of a certain woman he'd seen at the series - she passed out programs for the film series every week. There was something about her. More and more he couldn't keep his eyes off her, or his thoughts either.

When he later described her to Geyelyn, the word he used was "luminous." He thought Geyelyn would like that, and besides, he believed the word really would suit her perfectly.

For Daniel, through these several years of intense, focused study, there'd been no time for a relationship. There'd been brief encounters, flings, but no real relationships. He was beginning to feel the strain of that structured, spartan lifestyle, and he knew it was time for a change. He was more than ready, he was expectantly looking to meet someone soon.

After several weeks at the film series, he was sure his "luminous" girl by now recognized him as a regular. Tonight as he left, he thought she gave him a look. Actually, he was sure of it. The next week, when he smiled at her on his way out, she smiled back. Another week later and Rae's friend, Ivy, came with them. They went inside and got their seats, getting comfortable. "There's Suzanne!" Ivy called out, pointing to the girl who was passing out programs.

He looked and realized who it was and Ivy said, "Daniel, let me introduce you to my friend, Suzanne."

Daniel thought, on some level they'd already met. They went out together after the next Friday night's movie. He was only nineteen but already a graduate student. Suzanne Bek was twenty-three, a graduate student in film studies. She'd already been married and divorced. She wasn't tall - a bit of a sprite, really, with spiky brown hair and charmingly thin. Daniel found himself completely attracted to her.

She told him she was born in Ventura County and had lived all her life in Ventura. She didn't much like to travel - refusing to set foot on an airplane much less ever get on Daniel's motorcycle, and she freely admitted to being a classic homebody.

Daniel himself half-admitted she was much more open-minded, at that time, than he was. Daniel told her, "Some people believe that extraterrestrial beings had a major influence on early civilization, even the building of the pyramids. I've met people, even here at UCLA, who actually believe that. Isn't that ridiculous?"

Suzanne said, "Well, who knows?"

Daniel asked, "You could really take that seriously?"

Suzanne: "I just don't know. I wouldn't reject it out of hand."

Like Daniel, she also studied mythology and was an expert of sorts, working on a Master's thesis about "Ancient Mythology and Modern Variants in the Popular Media," which, when translated, meant, "Science fiction as modern mythology in film and television." It was a film arts program.

In her world, time-lines criss-crossed constantly, changing the course of history, inter-galactic travel was realizable, and wormhole machines were the latest technology. Daniel didn't believe she took that kind of science any more seriously that he did, at that time. It was the mythological dimension that both of them shared and truly loved with a passion.

Comparing ancient myth to the modern, Suzanne thought modern myth-making was self-consciously created, deliberately designed to suit our individual purposes. She talked about Superman's origins and the parallel with Moses: "Kal-El, son of Jor-El, was found by the Kents and adopted, just as Moses was found floating in the River Nile and adopted by the Queen of Egypt. Did you know the creators of Superman, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, were both Jewish?" Daniel shook his head, he didn't know. "It's modern myth," she said, "it's mythology we ourselves consciously create."

Sometimes Daniel's rational-scientific side took over and he could be skeptical and one afternoon, watching a well-known science fiction program with her he asked, "How is it that aliens in the far reaches of the universe speak English?"

She said, "It's a convention of science fiction. Poetic license. The same way that opera has conventions and so do historical movies and the theater. You know, Shakespeare's characters in _Julius Caesar_ speak English, not Latin. In a historical movie like _The Ten Commandments_, the director doesn't put translators in the scenes where the Hebrews talk to the Egyptians just to try to make it more realistic - it'd be too cumbersome, slow things down too much. The audience understands we can assume the language situation as a convention and we take it from there."

She knew her stuff. She could talk about cameo lighting, Rembrandt lighting and lens flare; she could explain cross cutting and cutaways, jump cuts, A Rolls, B Rolls and L cuts; dolly zooms and Dutch angles, diegetic sound vs. non-diegetic sound, everything about special effects ... and though most all of it went right past Daniel, he liked getting an inkling into a world he knew nothing about.

One evening Suz was working on some wide format photography. Daniel asked, "Is that what you'd call a panoramic shot?"

She explained, "Actually, it's just wide-angle and being wide-angle doesn't necessarily mean it's panoramic. A true panoramic shot would be at least two times as wide as the height and typically more like three or four times as wide."

She shuffled some things around and showed him another shot. "Here's a true panoramic shot. Pretty spectacular, right?"

Daniel looked at the scene which went from mountaintop to grassy fields to city skyscraper and agreed, ""Yeah, it really is."

Suzanne didn't just _watch_ movies, she _studied_ them and one afternoon when they were together at her place she said, "See, he used a dolly zoom to produce this effect." It was the opening scene with Jimmy Stewart in Alfred Hitchcock's _Vertigo_. "He combined a tracking shot with a zoom to do that scene, to simulate the sensation of vertigo." Suz loved Hitchcock.

Altogether, what with movies, television and documentaries, she watched many hours of video each day, all as a matter of pure research. Daniel observed three things about Suzanne: she was dedicated to her work, she was passionate about her subject matter and, last but not least, the girl was deadly cute.

o0o

Aside from her fascination with science fiction, Suzanne was very much down to earth. She didn't use make-up - she didn't need it, and she preferred jeans and sandals most of the time. She liked football and baseball and stock car racing, reading novels and walking out at the Venice Beach boardwalk and spending time with her dogs - which were up in Ventura. She had three dogs and she missed them, because they were staying at her grandfather's house in Ventura; she felt her apartment was too small to keep them comfortably. But her apartment had ample shelf space and she kept collections of books and games, always preserved in mint condition, which she catalogued and kept in perfect order.

Daniel thought she was a perfect complement to himself because she balanced him: when his mythological and anthropological theories and speculations got too abstract or his plans for travel to distant archaeological sites got too far-flung, being with her brought him back down to earth. He talked about traveling to the ruins of Machu Pichu and the ceremonial complex of Tikal in Peru, to Teotihuacan, the ancient "City of the Gods" in Mexico, to the Ajanta caves in India and the Lascaux caves in France, to Angkor Wat and Borobudur and Knossos on Crete, and to the Valley of the Kings west of the Nile. And of course back to the Pyramids outside Cairo, where he'd already been several times.

But he knew he'd always need to have a place to go home, even in his thoughts, and now being home was beginning to mean being with Suzanne in Southern California. He knew he was someone who sometimes over-extended himself, who could go and go and end up burning himself out and he needed to have a balance and Suz did that for him, she herself began to represent home and a quieter, more centered place where he could find something more like real life.

They spent time together studying for their courses, sometimes at his place, sometimes at hers. He spent several over-nights a week at her place, nights when they didn't get much sleep. They did their best to make adjustments, so their nights together would not be followed by early morning schedules. Her bed was a bit small for two, and Suzanne said, "We're gonna have to do something about the bed."

She said she wanted to visit her grandfather and see her dogs so one weekend they drove to the house in Ventura. They took her car and the visit went well but later, driving home on the way back, Daniel thought about his career path and the direction it was going, which he felt was floundering. It wasn't as simple as Suzanne probably imagined. One wrong move and he could end-up teaching in a classroom for the rest of his life. That was his worst case scenario - he couldn't imagine spending his life teaching. As they drove he asked about her plans - trying to draw her out. She said, "I'd like to do something in my field with film making, but I'm not really any good as far as using it to make a living. You know, 'Those that can, do, those that can't, teach.' I'll probably end-up teaching film history somewhere, in some kind of arts program. I might end-up working for the YMCA, one of their programs, something like that. The truth is, at the moment there's no solid plan."

At that time Daniel's future plans were also quite indefinite. Nothing had been worked out yet, so much was amorphous, uncertain, and it made him uneasy. The main thing: he wasn't satisfied with his academic progress. Daniel told Suzanne, "I haven't made much progress trying to crack the code for Linear A, and I'm almost as frustrated, too, with the slow progress I've made trying to synthesize an Indo-European proto-language."

"Oh, come on. You're only frustrated because you have such high expectations. Look, Daniel, you're a first year grad student, for God's sake. Relax."

"I'm trying, I really am." But he couldn't relax, not about things that affected his career. In fact, he felt others with far less natural ability, using purely systematic "grunt work" and having the time to work on it, had made far more progress on proto-languages than he. Yes, he did have high expectations, but he found himself having a hard time dealing with the continual frustrations they brought.

And yet he could put at least some of this in the background because of Suzanne. What gave him the most solidity lately, was his relationship with Suz. Since he'd met her, he felt a quiet confidence or hopefulness about life, as if the relationship kindled encouragement that spread through his thoughts for the future.

Geyelyn had spoken about each person having a "twin flame," though when he did so it was in technical, theosophical terms associated with "astral vibrations" and "mystic chords." Daniel remembered Geyelyn's description of soul mates and "twin flames." He'd told him, "A twin flame was more than a soul mate, because it was almost a spiritual relationship. Your twin flame would be someone who would help complete your life-long work, your mission or your purpose in life."

Daniel was looking for more than abstract theories of mythology, archaeological digs and countless spoken languages. He wanted more and needed more and seriously believed Suzanne could be the one.

o0o

When Suzanne came visiting at Daniel's house she'd also see Rae Rae and Jon, but Geyelyn seemed to be elusive lately and so far she'd never even met him. The girls' friend-in-common was Ivy and they talked about getting together some time.

Suzanne and Daniel went out to eat at Chinese restaurants, went out for pizza, stopped for ice cream. They stopped and browsed through bookstores and record shops, they stopped and bought new sneakers for Daniel and new sandals for Suz. To do simple things like this with someone he felt close to was something Daniel's life had been keenly lacking, while he'd concentrated so completely on linguistic theories and anthropological theories, ancient mythology and archaeological artifacts.

Suzanne liked to watch car racing and one day in mid-November she told Daniel, "I finished my preliminary cinematography project - wanna help me celebrate? Let's go see the Winston Western 500 Sunday at Riverside, O.K.? It's the last race of the season." It was one of her passions and Daniel knew he'd get caught-up in her enthusiasm.

Suz had a 1980 Pontiac and she drove and on the way there she talked about the speeds the drivers drove and pit stops and speeding on pit road and cautions and restarts, and said hopefully no one would get hurt today in a crash. She told Daniel about some of the most well-known drivers; she said, "Terry Labonte's out in front in points but I don't care, I've been rooting for Geoff Bodine," and as it turned-out Bodine won that day, ahead of Tim Richmond in second and Labonte in third. Suzanne was ecstatic and Daniel liked to see her that way.

In certain ways they were different, but he thought they got along perfectly. One time she asked, "What do you like about me?" Daniel knew he was smitten and told her the truth, which was that he believed "It's just pure animal magnetism."

In Daniel's room they did studying together, keeping focused. The focus changed when they were in Suzanne's apartment. Biting kisses led to passionate evenings. She invited him into her bedroom and into that world of provocative intensity, the lightest touch generating all kinds of electricity. When he was with her there were no artificial inhibitions, desire intertwined with the most honest physical reality imaginable, hour after sensuously passing hour. She invited and he entered her diaphanous**, **fluid dimension, as if merging with quicksilver.

o0o

Though their time together had only been a matter of weeks, there was a chemistry between them and there was no doubt that Daniel already had deep feelings for Suzanne. He thought, she was someone he could love. What he knew for sure was that when he was with her he was more happy than he'd ever been.

For Suz, things were not so perfect. Daniel seemed to imagine a rosy future together. But.

Yes, she was happy to have met him. She'd been out of the dating loop for quite a while - since her divorce. He was the first guy she'd been with, since. But, while Daniel was all full-speed ahead, she wondered how much of an emotional investment was reasonable or realistic. Of course she found him attractive - he was a sexy guy, and he was certainly very mature for someone who was only nineteen years old. And of course they had things in common, interesting things, fun things. And she found she liked being the experienced, older woman in his life. He was a dear, sweet guy - maybe a bit naive. But she really liked him, very much. Perhaps too much.

Because he was an academic superstar with a future, no matter what he said about feeling as if he were "floundering," having indefinite plans. He was on an advance-track program and would someday have a successful career, a career that would take him all over the world, even possibly make him famous some day.

Her situation was so much different. She loved her film studies program, it was her passion and what kept her going when everything else felt uncertain. But she wasn't at all certain it would make a career. At this point as a student, she was just barely surviving, with scholarship money and financial aid and loans. Film studies majors either made the grade and made their own films, which was rare, or else did teaching, or got their film degrees for their own personal interest and moved into jobs that had nothing to do with their academic degrees - which could be anything, anything at all, but she hadn't pursued back-up career plans. Plan A was a work in progress and she wasn't at all sure there was a Plan B at all.

And at some point Daniel would move on, literally, to other places, other friends, other women. She had no plans to leave Southern California. She'd be left behind. Again. It wouldn't last, eventually he'd leave.

She put her thoughts away, up on the shelf with the other carefully catalogued items. The doubtful thoughts could wait until tomorrow. Tonight Daniel would come over, and they'd have the night together.

o0o

One night when Daniel had come over, the music she had playing on the stereo was some spacey, experimental electric guitar music and she asked Daniel, "What does this make you think about, when you listen to it?"

He knew she wanted him to use his imagination. He listened for a bit and then told her, "O.K., here's my interpretation. There's three motorcycles, black, gold and silver, out in the Arizona desert ..." he stopped, changed his mind. "No, here it is. These are riders on the plain, in India, on horses. They're riding in the bright, afternoon sunshine, horsemen riding over the plains of India. They're seekers, searching for gold and silver."

Suz asked, "Daniel, tell me a fantasy."

Daniel answered, "You tell me yours."

Suz: "O.K." She spoke slowly, sensuously: "I'd kiss your whole body, from head to toe and back again and then ... massage you with oil, cover you completely with oil ..." And there was more, she went on like that.

She asked again, "Tell me yours."

He made one up. He said, "First, I have to blindfold you. Then, when you open your eyes you'll see Ivy's with us, because she's been invited to our little _menage a trois_."

He was just trying to make her laugh, but instead she gave a pretend-pout and punched him on the arm, hard!

She said, "No, come on, tell me a real fantasy."

Daniel: "O.K., how about this? This is for real." He closed his eyes and said, "I'm riding my bike out West, through the desert. Golden sun all around, silver chrome underneath. I'm riding out there en route to a vision quest experience, in New Mexico. You're sitting behind me. You're wearing something ... no, ummm, yes, now I see it clearly, you're riding in back and you've responded to some kind of dare, and you're topless."

Suz: "Daniel! First of all, you know you're never gonna get me on that bike. Try again."

Daniel: "O.K., here's the real thing. Ready?" He closed his eyes again and spoke seriously, trying to focus: "I'm traveling the world, visiting archaeological digs in Egypt, Peru, Kenya. You're with me. We travel everywhere together ... and then, one night ..."

Suzanne interrupted, "Daniel, I don't know if I really _want_ to travel the world. I mean, face the truth, that'll never happen."

She was right, he thought, that would never happen. Daniel knew very well she didn't like traveling very far from home.

She said, "This is home, I like it here and I'm happy here and you'll never get me flying around the world on airplanes. That's not me."

But it was just an obstacle to be overcome, Daniel thought, nothing very important in the grand scope of things. They stopped talking and neither of them said anything for a long moment. He reached for her and kissed her then and she kissed him back.

o0o

One afternoon, Daniel was walking through Westwood with Geyelyn. Conversations with his eccentric roommate were generally more like lectures on Geyelyn's part and this was one of those times, but Daniel found the monologues made good background while walking out in the city. That day, as usual, their destination was Holmby Park.

"Of course, Mensch," Geyelyn said, "the mystic chord is really a vibration, or rather, a coordinated combination of vibrations. Assuming already that the astral body is perpetually in motion, the spiritually advanced person might possess, let's say, five basic rates of vibration. We're talking about a calm, centered, focused individual, while the ordinary person may have nine or more rates of vibration. More rates of vibration means more scattered, less centered - you understand? But these days it's not uncommon to see people spinning wildly, with thirty or forty or fifty different rates of vibration!"

Daniel, fading in and out of what he heard, half-enthusiastically said, "Wow!"

Geyelyn went on, "In the after-life, the higher self, expanding upward and outward, seeks finer vibrations. Eventually, _trishna_, the pull of desire, acts like gravity, pulling us downward. Thus is the ego, attracted by familiar vibrations, drawn towards reincarnation.

"And what are we looking for in the after-life? The same things we looked for in our physical lives. Which are? It depends on what kind of person we were - what our interests were, what drives us, what we aspired towards. The ancient mystery cults had a well-known saying:

_He who seeks realities in this life will also seek realities after death; and he who seeks unrealities in this life shall also seek unrealities after death. _

By this time they were walking down Comstock Avenue, still heading towards Holmby Park. Geyelyn continued on with his monologue:

"Mensch, remember the mystic chord? It's a means of differentiation and recognition among souls. On our return to rebirth, this is a way to remember ourselves, to recognize our former selves in previous lives. We retain the same _tone_, the same mystic chord, forever."

They had passed a traffic accident with the hood of the car completely bashed-in. Now they were passing a homeless woman pushing a shopping cart. Daniel faded in and out of Geyelyn's abstruse "vibration-logic." He wondered about the realistic, day-to-day application of all this, if there were any. Just then, Geyelyn said:

"All this, what you might call _vibration logic_, is the underlying source for the popular idea of _soul mates,_ and even of Plato's idea of _twin flames_. You see, what it is, Mensch, is that souls recognize each other via their common rates of astral vibrations and their mystic chords."

They were getting close to the north side of Holmby Park. Now, though what happened next later seemed unbelievably bizarre in Daniel's memory, he knew it really did happen. They had just reached the corner of Comstock and Club View Drive. They were waiting for the light to change, when something happened he would never forget: an older woman, she looked to be about seventy years old, came walking with a cane, creakily walked up to Geyelyn, pointed her cane at him and said, "There's a purple ray coming down from above," as she motioned downwards, towards his head, "It's spiraling down into the back of your head." G.D. was nonchalant, he responded, "I know, it's a ray from Sirius." The light changed and they crossed over into Holmby Hills Park.

o0o

One afternoon, Daniel and Suzanne were at Suz's place doing their school thing together. It was one of their favorite ways to spend time together, each working on their own coursework. Daniel was sitting at a keyboard, thinking and typing out speculations and supporting ideas for his thesis. Suzanne sat watching a science fiction documentary, completely focused, analyzing and taking notes on her tape recorder. They could do this for hours on end - just being there together, working and enjoying the time and space they shared. Occasionally, Suzanne would ask Daniel to watch something she was working on, which he did willingly and happily. Likewise, occasionally he'd talk to Suz about his thesis, but more often he'd talk absent-mindedly as if he were just thinking out loud, almost in a Geyelyn Daericour-style monologue:

Daniel: "A word is spoken to refer to something, just pointing at something and making some kind of sound, making up a word. The first man who ever made a crude hammer pointed to it and said the equivalent of _hammer_ in their _Homo habilis_ language. Then it became internalized as thinking, became an idea, the idea of a hammer. But an idea is itself a tool, a technology, and technologies are an instrument of cultural evolution. So, E=mc2, the idea, is not only a scientific idea, an abstract equation we use to understand our world, but also a tool we use to change our world. We use E=mc2 as a tool to make atomic bombs."

Daniel paused, following his thoughts, then continued: "Mythologies may also be viewed as tools; for example, to resolve conflicting ideas and behaviors. For Levi-Strauss, the purpose of a myth is to mediate, and thereby nullify the oppositions or the contradictions or the conflicts in our lives. So, life vs. death, primitive vs. civilized, clean vs. unclean, raw vs. cooked - that was the title of one of his books, _The Raw and the Cooked_."

Suz: "Uh huh."

Daniel: "Biological evolution operates through genetic mutations, while cultural evolution comes through the development of tools, language and ideas - including the making of myths." Daniel went on, talking about "creation myths ... flood myths ... after-life myths."

Suz: "Uh huh."

Daniel continued, "Physicists search for a unifying force or principle in the form of an equation and paleo-anthropologists and archaeologists search for the 'missing link,' which would be the earliest primate which was not an ape. For cultural anthropologists, the holy grail is the search for a universal human nature, which would imply a universal mythology. _That's_ what I'm looking for."

"Uh huh."

Daniel looked up from his computer keyboard and looked at Suz. Eventually she caught his gaze in her peripheral vision and looked back at him. Suzanne had been half-listening and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I know I'm not saying much."

"That's O.K., I don't mind, I was really just thinking out loud, anyway."

"But you know I'm listening, right? I'm with you."

"I do, and it's O.K. Really."

Really, he didn't mind. He liked seeing her enthusiasm for her work and believed they worked perfectly together. Despite any misgivings Suzanne had about their future together, she felt the same way.

o0o

Geyelyn had begun spending a lot of time with a lady friend, Linda Mercado. Daniel had not yet met her but Geyelyn had shown him a picture: she had a Latin look, she was rather tall and had a fantastic smile. Daniel thought she looked "striking." In the picture she was wearing something stylish; the scene might have been Buenos Aires, Rio or some other exotic location.

Geyelyn said, "Linda grew up traveling around the world with her father, who was in the military. She never finished high school, but had private lessons." A little later, Geyelyn told him, "Linda's a speed reader; she read _War and Peace_ in one sixteen-hour sitting."

She worked for an antique book dealer, traveling to Buenos Aires, Rome, Casablanca, Madrid, all over the world in search of rare books, first editions, ancient manuscripts. She was a few years older than most of the other people Daniel knew - she might have been twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Apparently, he thought, she does very well for herself; she owned the house she lives in off Sunset Avenue in Bel Air. Geyelyn said, "Linda wants me to house-sit at her place next week, when she'll be traveling to Athens."

Just the next night, a number of Geyelyn's friends arrived in their Selby Avenue living room. Daniel didn't know what the occasion was or if there even was one. He finally met Linda Mercado, accompanied by her friends, Clemm Crawford, Rick Mazur and Leroux Matthews. Rae was there, she'd agreed to help out, serving hors d'oeuvre foods and drinks.

While Geyelyn stood talking to Linda Mercado and Clemm Crawford, others talked sports, politics and academic coursework until, eventually, people tuned in and gave Geyelyn their attention. The discussion that followed caught Daniel's interest; the topic seemed to focus on a person's _optimal exit time-frame_, a phrase Geyelyn used several times that night. Their talk pulled him in.

For the benefit of a few newcomers, Geyelyn put the subject matter in layman's terms and spelled it out: "It isn't just our Moral Character that determines the success of our reincarnation. That's primary, of course, but let's consider the other essential component: the composite power of our mental-astral-physical body, which we call the _magnitude_. The magnitude represents the total potential energy or power we can direct towards reincarnation in a new physical vehicle."

Geyelyn paused, looking over the group. He continued, "To calculate the magnitude we must include not only our physical, mental and emotional health and abilities but also our disabilities and infirmities. Everything has to be factored in, to estimate the _totality_ of our accelerating the maximum life-force into the next life depends exactly on this magnitude, _exactly_ at the time of death. And so we come to a most difficult realization, which is that our death is most valuable to us just at the time we are reaching our prime, or, more accurately, what we call the _optimum time_."

They had the lights down low. Daniel, lurking in the back of the room, was trying to nonchalantly listen in. Trying not to seem too overly interested, aware that most everyone knew he was a skeptic. It was true, he took none of it seriously. Still,Daniel went over it in his mind. He thought he had it: it was all about karma. The karma of moral character, once formed, remains essentially constant, but the karma of a person's power or _magnitude_ waxes and wanes; we reach the peak of our powers at a certain age, an _optimal time_, and then decline with age or illness. Geyelyn went on talking, but Daniel already realized the gist of it was to try to calculate a person's over-all optimal state, looking for the optimal time to "exit" for the sake of the next incarnation.

Leroux Matthews, a newcomer to the group asked, "How would you know what the optimal time was?How do youactually _know_, for sure?

Geyelyn answered, "You would only know with certainty from a centered place in consciousness, an enlightened state. The Buddhists call the first, brief flash of enlightenment the _satori_ experience, but it's best understood as the experience of a very brief _ascension_, a brief glimpse into a higher plane."

Clemm Crawford, who'd arrived that night with Linda Mercado, several times asked Geyelyn questions or asked him to repeat something - always referring to Geyelyn as "G.D." It was Clemm who described the elements of "magnitude," using factors such as physical health and age, genetic make-up, intelligence and level of psycho-social adjustment. He mentioned many physical illnesses, especially those that were terminal, all for the sake of determining whether a person's consciousness was "constricted" or "clear," well-developed or lagging behind. Daniel heard Clemm refer to Geyelyn's idea as a "calculus"; it was Clemm's word. Apparently, everything had to be accounted for, everything factored in cumulatively, looking for a kind of final tally. The idea was to maximize the life-force towards reincarnation, finding the optimal time to die.

It began to dawn on Daniel that all this could also be viewed as a kind of "calculus for suicide." In the dim light, he might have found it all rather spooky - if he took it at all seriously. Which he did not. And yet, he felt he had to ask, just for the record. When Geyelyn called for a little break and everyone scattered and split in groups to talk, he found a minute with him alone to ask the question: "Geyelyn, how serious are you about all this? I mean, look, level with me, nobody's committing suicide here, are they?"

Geyelyn answered, "I'm sorry, Daniel, I just assumed you understood, that it's all theoretical, to increase our understanding, to explore intellectually how things work. It's a tool for study, a theoretical exercise. As to how these exercises might be applied someday, well, that's all but impossible to explain to the uninitiated."

Daniel understood then that it was as he had always believed: all abstract and purely theoretical. They were stretching the boundaries of their imaginations but it wasn't in Geyelyn's character to test the boundaries of human decency. To Daniel, Geyelyn was as decent a person as he'd ever known. Geyelyn had become his best friend these last several months and Daniel now felt vindicated about his trust in his friend's character.

Later, Rae brought in more food. Somebody put on some music. The lights were low and the discussion went on for some time until, at some point as Daniel remembered, Rick Mazur started flicking the lights on and off, off and on, one, two, three or so times. Finally he left them off. Somebody else eventually turned them back on. Nobody else seemed to pay any attention, but soon afterwards there was Rick leaving, going out the front door, calling out, "Time to check out, guys."

They all responded, Take care, Rick, See ya, Rick.

It got quiet then, the room was very still, and later it was that silence he remembered most of all. At that time Daniel didn't make much of it but as time passed he often reviewed that whole night in his memory, wondering if he'd missed something that happened right before his eyes.

o0o

On Edora, the mining complex medic was the equivalent of a medical intern, not a doctor, and the medic split his duties with Dr. Frasier when she arrived on the planet. Normally, seriously ill patients were simply sent to their home planet through the Stargate, but with Dr. Frasier on board they had options. Daniel's story had continued for several hours after midnight. At some point, when eventually Janet needed to leave so she could look in on her patients and still get a few hours of sleep, she set the tape player and let it run while Daniel talked. She planned to get back to Daniel's story as soon as possible.

19


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter** **4**

The Manager-in-Chief knew just about everything there was to know about naquadah, and had the mining and engineering background to oversee every aspect of the work project. Buthe knew a lot more than engineering; in particular, he knew biochemistry. The Chief wondered if the members of SG-1 liked their little "Welcome to Edora" present last evening, as much as he liked making it? He thought, I always had a nice touch with bouillabaisse.

He considered himself an excellent chef. It was morning and as he prepared a hearty breakfast for himself in his personal kitchen, he was chuckling and talking to himself, thinking of his "present" to SG-1: "I'm sure the Marseilles bouillabaisse was quite successful, and I'm so happy they got a chance to try it." Then, reflecting a little more, he added, "Too bad about Dr. Jackson, though. How can I make it up to him, since he missed out?"

There was nothing complicated about the recipe: a base of simmered European conger, crabs, leeks, tomatoes, celery, onions and then the various seasonings, including garlic and saffron, and then the "fortified" liquid naquadah - fortified with the indispensable Salvia divinorum, also known as "diviner's sage." Micro-milligrams were all that were required. Talk about toxicity! Of course it was delicious and, due to a special quirk of the ingredients, absolutely undetectable.

The Chief had gone to school at the prestigious Colorado School of Mines. Even then, he was known as much for his talents in the biochemistry lab as for his skills as an engineer. He could concoct and manufacture ingredients to mix with food or drink for any occasion, for any purpose which would further his ends.

He hadn't graduated - he'd been nearing graduation when he was unceremoniously expelled. The suit, filed against him and against the school by another student, was settled out of court and the records sealed. Nothing is known about what actually happened, except that the student remains incapacitated and wheelchair-bound to this day. Besides the Chief, only the incapacitated student and the lawyers knew what really happened.

There was no course in Naquadah 101 at the Colorado School of Mines, but that became superfluous when he met a man by the name of Adrian Conrad. Funny thing is, the Chief smiled when he thought about it, Conrad still thinks he found me. The truth is, _I_ found _him_. Knew where to look and exactly what to say, because both he and I had a common interest: naquadah.

Of course, the use of naquadah to amplify explosives was a common military application, but its potential for superconductivity was its main draw. Superconductors were elements, alloys or compounds that conduct electricity without resistance below a certain temperature. A material with no resistance translated into a phenomenon as close to perpetual motion as could ever be found. Scientists considered superconductivity to be a _macroscopic quantum phenomenon_.

The most modern high-speed trains used superconductive materials for magnetic-levitation, and medical biomagnetic technology such as MRI's used superconductive materials. But with naquadah the field was truly wide open and Conrad was willing to do anything to acquire it. Because eventually, that's where the real money would be.

Early on Conrad told the Chief: "My plans will produce much more dangerous, and yet also tremendously more profitable uses for superconductivity." But he needed naquadah to make that happen.

Yes, Conrad's company would make money from the mining operation, but the naquadah itself was going to the U.S. government, who wanted it kept strictly under their control. Conrad wanted more than payment for the mining, he wanted a real piece of the action - he wanted some of the naquadah. For research, so he would be ahead of the game; for sale, when the price was now, most of it was going into storage for safekeeping. However, no processing could be done on Edora. According to the General Agreement, the naquadah ore was to be extracted but remain unprocessed on Edora for environmental reasons. The problem was, unrefined naquadah was incredibly dense - as dense as gold, which made it too heavy to be easily removed from Edora without detection. Any attempt at smuggling was too big a risk.

That's when the Chief went to work, searching for a processing method that would be undetectable to inspectors. The technical knowledge for processing naquadah ore into liquid naquadah was already known, but the Chief's experiments, backed by Adrian Conrad's money, eventually developed the engineering essentials for producing liquid naquadah without giving off the gases, fumes and odor that usually accompanied such processing. The naquadah could virtually be "refined out of existence" in terms of detection, and could be shipped in extremely compact, titanium-lined containers.

It worked, and it might have been a perfect plan if it hadn't been for a group of six defiant workers who figured out Conrad's and the Chief's scheme and demanded a pay-off for themselves. Then they got bolder, demanding a percentage of the profits for the lifetime of the contract. Beyond the money, those workers were in position to extort blackmail, and Conrad had no intention of permitting a situation where he'd be in a position of weakness. He demanded that the Chief deal with them. He told the Chief: "If they can't follow the program, that's it, they're history. See to it, or else."

o0o

Neltone was on his way to sign-in at Marshal Griggs' Headquarters before reporting for work at the Gateroom. He held a crucial position at the mining complex as a Gate Operator, and as he walked he was preoccupied with some deep thoughts; he felt he had to make a decision and make it soon. Neltone, who was twenty-five years old, was a cousin of Laira's.

There were those few individuals who wanted to be on the ground floor in the expansion that would come to Edora. At first, Neltone was one of those but his attitude was different now, he felt Edora would be unrecognizable to anyone who'd only known it before the treaty. True, the financial success he himself hoped to become never materialized: his portion of the "special arrangements" money was nothing more than a marginal compensation. But there was more to it than that, there was another side to Neltone.

As an Edoran, he felt acutely the feeling of "slave" status in relation to their ownership and management overlords. Yes, Edora was getting something out of the treaty, but not much compared to the great mineral wealth being carried off. And then, considering the environmental wreckage, Edorans might be losing in the deal. As for himself, personally, it wasn't a matter of greed on his part but rather a sense of fairness and justice that now motivated him to question the special arrangements he'd made with the other Gateroom Operators, and with the Chief and his strongmen.

He went in to the Marshal's HQ to register for work and as he bent over the desk signing his name he saw SG-1 there inside the office, talking with the marshal, the deputy and the building engineer. Neltone knew who the SG-1 members were and the ideals they stood for. He admired and respected them; he could go over and talk to them and tell them everything right now! But he knew he would not. Unless he was sure. Because of the threats.

"Go with the flow," they told him, when two of the Chief's _legitimistas_ brought him into his office in the U-Tower. One of them said, "Go with the flow, Neltone. Otherwise, first your family members will find themselves with _complications_, and then your own life will become unrecognizable." They made threats against his cousin, Laira. They said, "We're thinking of introducing your cousin to drug therapy. After she undergoes educational drug therapy, she'll see the light. She'll develop greater flexibility, her mind will become much more open. She'll come around, you'll see, she'll see things our way."

The Chief himself did not put things so bluntly, speaking more generally and emphasizing "all the benefits we can offer you, versus the problems that materialize for people without foresight." The Chief had looked into Neltone's eyes and said, "It's your choice, Neltone, your decision to make. Of your own free will." Neltone had to admit, the Chief knew what he was doing and he wasn't one for idle threats.

He didn't discuss any of this with Laira; the less she knew the better. When she asked him, "Neltone, how is your job at the Gateroom? Do you like the work? Is everything going smoothly?" He said nothing, he said everything was fine then changed the subject. Anything she knew would only draw her in, making her more vulnerable.

There were three of them, the Edoran full-time Gate Operators who operated the Stargate, with Troyan as the lead man. They worked full-time in 8-hour shifts, with three weekend relief workers and two workers who were available to float as back-ups. The relief and float Gate Operators were also Edorans.

Their jobs were multifaceted and crucial: they held the electronic badge-keys for opening the titanium iris shield surrounding the Gate and for operating the Stargate, and they opened the front, back and side doors to the Gateroom, which also required the special badge-key. They logged-in visitors who came in and went out through the Gate and they were responsible for logging the weights and quantities of crates of naquadah going out through the Gate. The workers' union contract, as part of the General Agreement, required that Gate Operators all be Edorans. Their badge-keys, required to open the Stargate's iris, only worked in conjunction with a key which operated from the marshal's HQ, and vice-versa. Without his and his fellow Edoran's keys, all work, traffic and movement at the Gate came to a standstill.

The Edoran Gate Operators were given only three days of training prior to taking their positions. Aside from hands-on training for opening the Gate and titanium shield, they were given only a general, abstract bookkeeping overview which went completely over their heads, and a short session in basic records-keeping to manage their day-to-day duties. It didn't amount to much; their teachers told them: "Fill out the form exactly as we will show you, every day. Do not vary the information on the forms in any way."

When Neltone asked, "Should we not count and report everything accurately?" he was told,"That will be you make a mistake, you would be terminated. Simply make out the forms exactly as we will show you, and repeat that every day without variation. The shippers will assure that everything is accurate."

All the Edoran Gate Operators knew the reality: those in charge of the shipping were smuggling five small vials of the green-yellowish substance, liquid naquadah, in every fiftieth crate of ore. They marked it with a green-yellow stamp instead of the plain yellow stamp that was used for all the other crates.

Troyan was the Edoran who took the lead in the arrangement. He was also the one who kept the pressure on Neltone and any other Edoran who thought of changing his mind in their agreement. Troyan told him, "If you go to the marshal about this, we'll lose our jobs, all of us, all your fellow Edorans. You have your motives, Neltone, I don't doubt your sincerity, but remember, this will be the end for all of us, your own people."

They had their own interests and Neltone understood that nothing about their situation was simple. Troyan said, "Remember, we have an agreement to hold firm. It's all of us or none. We stand together or we fall together."

Neltone had a decision to make and soon, but he felt he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Neltone arrived at the Gateroom, stored his things in a locker and went to sign-in there at the Gateroom, also. Soon after coming on duty a film crew, just put on the schedule last night, came through the Gate. The crew was listed as being part of a mission to film the last two days of the fire rain for scientific study. The crew first went through a scanning machine that checked Gate passengers and cargo for unrecognizable micro-organisms, then went up to Neltone's desk for sign-in. Neltone asked the film crew leader for his name, who responded, "Barry Krzyzewski." They were all Americans. Neltone signed-in the others and sent them all down to the marshal's HQ to complete the sign-in process.

After they left the Gateroom, Neltone found himself wondering why they were coming now, when the fire rain would be over in just two more days? It was true, Neltone would admit, that he tended to be suspicious of everything that came through the Gate. Still. And another thing, were they scientists, who also did photography - or were they simply ordinary photographers? Because if they were scientists, he would have expected to see "Dr." as a prefix for some, or at least one of the men. Which he did not. He had seen film crews here before, but they'd always been scientists. But again, he admitted, he had a suspicious nature, so who could say whether it meant anything or not?

o0o

After Jack, Sam and Teal'c fell ill, that night and the next morning passed. By mid-afternoon, SG-1 had not been seen by anyone for about eighteen hours - anyone except Dr. Janet Frasier. O'Neill, Carter and Teal'c had been flat on their backs in the clinic's infirmary, wondering what hit them, as they gradually waited for the effects to wear-off. Fortunately it _was_ wearing off. But now they felt vulnerable; if they'd been deliberately targeted, they knew whoever was responsible could get to them. If nothing else, they'd have to be careful about the food they ate.

Finally they were up and about, though nowhere near feeling fully recovered. They made their way to the marshal's HQ, where they found Marshal Griggs, Deputy Sparks and the building engineer, McKeller. Even minus Dr. Jackson, the marshal was happy to see SG-1 back in action.

Griggs said, "It's good to see you back, Colonel, Major, Teal'c. Dr. Frasier said you were making a reasonably-good recovery, is that right?"

Carter and Teal'c nodded that they were recovering and Teal'c said, "Both my vision and feeling of weakness have improved considerably."

Sam said, "I was sweating in bed all night, so I'm estimating twelve hours of full-potency symptoms. After that it began wearing-off quickly. I'm feeling a lot better now, thankfully."

O'Neill: "It felt like twelve hours in hell. I guess it could have been worse - none of us committed suicide."

Carter and Teal'c just looked at O'Neill, not amused.

Marshal Griggs: "Major Carter, how's Dr. Jackson doing?"

"Janet told me he's _improved_. He's supposed to be joining us here soon."

O'Neill: "Marshal, any updates on your end of things? Anything new on the suicides?"

"No, there's no new information, nothing so far to indicate any foul play."

"What about the naquadah? Any irregularities found in the extraction process, any sign of refining, any discrepancies with the naquadah shipments ... anything?" He looked at him hopefully.

"Nothing. No irregularities, no discrepancies found so far, not a thing. Everything stands just as it was." Then he added, "We _could_ get a more thorough investigation, if only the Representative Council would vote for it. Problem is, any _auxiliary investigations_ are set forth in the General Agreement as needing Council approval, and expecting them to actually _do_ anything is like expecting to find a snowball in hell. Just not going to happen anytime soon."

Deputy Sparks spoke up: "They're more concerned about voting on who sits where at their meeting tables than about any kind of suicide investigation."

Griggs: "They can spend hours on end debating what they should have for dinner but won't spend more than five minutes at a time discussing naquadah accountability."

Teal'c: "Indeed. My reading of the General Agreement disclosed a provision that a _naquadah accountability inspection_ requires a unanimous vote from all Council Representatives."

McKeller: "Yeah, it's crazy. Reminds me of something I once read, about the Polish Assembly back in the 1400's and 1500's, which at that time was called the Diet. They had a requirement, they had to have a unanimous vote from all the nobles in order to enact any law or bring any action - so nothing ever got done."

Griggs: "Yeah, well, the powers-that-be who wrote the General Agreement were afraid of member-planets pulling their people out and slowing down production, more than anything else. Production, that's all they care about."

The teams of Representatives from each worker contingent, who made for a total of one hundred members, formed the Representative Council. They rarely came to sit in session on Edora but had agreed to come for the final days of the fire rain. As the marshal correctly described, there was unending debate within the Council on any and every subject that came up for discussion, but almost all their time was spent discussing trivial issues and minor details. Nothing of importance ever got done.

Just then, a Council Representative knocked at the door. Deputy Sparks buzzed the man in and he said, "We've heard rumors about the food supply, that it's tainted. We demand that you enforce the General Agreement provision which guarantees our right to have meals in accordance with our personal tastes and individual dietary requirements. That is, we expect and _demand_ that a completely fresh shipment of food be brought through the Stargate as soon as possible."

Griggs answered, "Fresh food already _is_ on the way. Our regular weekly shipment arrives tomorrow. The next delivery's already in process."

"What are we supposed to do for food today, and tonight?" asked the Representative, who was from P2Q-463, the planet Vyus.

Griggs: "Other than the case affecting SG-1, no other known problems with the food have been reported. At this point, anything else is pure rumor and is completely unfounded." In any case, he told the Representative, there was nothing more he could do at the moment. The Representative left the room, looking rather unhappy.

McKeller said, "The General Agreement has provisions for just about everything except the enforcement ofcommon sense."

However, as the day passed the Council members finally did make a decision about one thing: against the advice of Marshal Griggs, they voted to move their base of operations from the G-Tower to the ninth floor of the U-Tower. The marshal had explained that the issue of the smell of gas in the U-Tower was still unresolved, that it would be safer to stay where they were on the G-Tower's tenth floor.

It occurred to the marshal later that, with such a group, reverse psychology might have worked much better. Because the Representatives went ahead anyway and moved to the U-Tower, claiming that they felt quarters were cramped where they'd been, at the G-Tower, though the real reason had more to do with believing the food in the G-Tower was tainted. SG-1 had eaten the meal that made them sick, although even that assumption was never proven, in the cafeteria in the G-Tower. The U-Tower had its own cafeteria and several small food commissaries, so the Representatives moved over there en masse in the afternoon.

o0o

Late that afternoon,SG-1 and Co. minus Daniel Jackson were headed for a tour of the mining sub-levels. The main reason for the tour: a rumor floating around about another potential suicide. Dr. Frasier had told them earlier, "We need to be on the alert for another suicide. I can't help but be aware that it's springtime here on Edora, and on Earth springtime brings the most suicides. Every year we have about 300,000 suicides, and that's in the U.S. alone."

Jack had asked, "Is there anything we could do?"

Janet told them, "Well, McKeller's going into the mining sub-levels to check for gas leaks this afternoon. I'd like to go down there with him and do some observation, see the conditions down there, look at the men's faces, get a feel for what those workers are dealing with."

Jack decided, "Sure, tell you what, we'll all go. We'll be your escort through the mines while McKeller does his thing. Kill two birds with one stone."

As they entered the mines at sub-level 1, everyone got outfitted with noise-dampening ear muff headphones; it was a General Agreement rule, instigated and enforced by UEC with no exceptions. The headphones also transmitted easy-listening music for the men as they worked, sent from the Manager-in-Chief's office in the U-Tower above.

They werewalking through sub-level 1 in twos, Sam and McKeller up front followed by Jack and Teal'c, with Janet and Deputy Green bringing up the rear. McKeller was checking equipment and cables and gas lines on every platform on every level, looking through control rooms and checkpoints and poking into container rooms, loading rooms, bulkhead areas, storage rooms, electrical closets, cable rooms and equipment cabinets wherever he found them.

As they walked McKeller asked Sam, "What sort of thing prepared you most for joining SG-1?"

Sam answered, "I don't know, maybe just being military. But otherwise, I guess the astrophysics counted most early on." Sam wasn't boasting, McKeller seemed genuinely interested so she went ahead and told him. "It was my research in the _Analysis of Deep Space Telemetry_ that first got me some real attention." Sam talked while McKeller worked and McKeller in turn talked about the sub-level layout and the mining-complex construction and also about mundane things like the elevators: "The elevator pits need cleaning. There's a layer of grimy ash or soot and gravel and a collection of garbage items underneath in there that the air pulled in, like a draw, the same way a chimney sucks everything in."

McKeller poked around some more and said, "Remind me to tell their engineer about the elevator - did you know UEC has their own engineer for the mining sub-levels? I can't even remember when the last time was I've been down here."

Sam asked, "But they don't have anything against you coming down here, do they?"

"No, it's just been the standard routine, we leave everything in the mine to them. That's how they want it, their Manager-in-Chief handles everything."

En route for their tour Janet told the group, "When we visit the mining sub-levels keep your eyes open for signs of depression, anxiety, unusual behavior ... anything out of the ordinary." But so far she saw nothing out of the ordinary, no overt stress on display, no pent-up anger or frustration or pressure building-up that she could see.

The mine workers includedlarge groups of Vyans and Orbanians, Bedrosians, Optricans, Russians and Americans, and smaller groups from Edora and other planets, such as P2A-509, PWW-98C and P26-007. Janet, walking in back next to Deputy Green, was taking it all in. She said, "Mister Green, looks like every planet's worker contingent has their own style of uniform or work clothes and their own colors. What group is that," as she pointed to her right, "with the green work pants, pale orange shirts and green caps?"

Green answered, "Those are the Orbanians."

Janet asked if he knew their background but he did not, so she filled him in: "The Orban ancestors were ancient Aztecs in Teotihuacan, before they were brought as slaves to Orban by the Goa'uld." She described the practice of designating children as _urrores_ to collect knowledge by means of nanites, and about the _averium_ and about Jack's influence on Merrin.

The group was walking the whole length of the mining facility because Janet wanted to get a look at everyone or at least as many workers as possible. The mine was designed as a gradually descending oval track or ramp, going for about one hundred fifty yards in a straight-a-way before turning and descending again for another one fifty to the next level.

Janet asked Green, "What about the workers with the white and navy blue colors?

"The white with blue stripes are the Bedrosians, the blue with white stars are Optricans."

"Know anything about them?"

Green knew every group's colors but almost nothing about their backgrounds. He said, "I know they don't get along very well with each other. You'd think, coming from the same planet ..."

Janet explained, "Well, the Bedrosians and Optricans were in the middle of a civil war when we first met them. They only just reached a truce last year."

"What were they fighting about?"

"It was a war of beliefs, religion versus science. The Optricans believe humans came to Orban through the Stargate, brought there by aliens, and they hold that belief even without knowing anything about the Goa'uld. The Bedrosians believe all life was created by their god, Niefertum, and SG-1 got caught in the middle of all their wrangling. I just hope the truce can hold."

Green nodded his head, it was the first he'd heard about their backgrounds. They walked some more and as they continued down to sub-level 2, Janet asked, "What about the men in maroon and silver?"

Green: "They're Vyans, from the planet Vyus."

Janet told him what she knew: "The Vyans were suffering from amnesia when SG-1 first arrived on Vyus. A woman named Ke'ra, who SG-1 knew as _Linea_ from an earlier encounter, was conducting longevity experiments on the people of Vyus. Her experiments worked, people became younger, but the cost was mass amnesia. Luckily, an antidote was found to reverse the amnesia."

Green was thinking, How bad do things have to be, to have to leave your home world and come here to work in a mine? He said, "Seems likesome of these people have gone through a lot."

Janet saw Americans and Russians working side by side and maybe two dozen or so Edorans working the mines too, hoping for a better life. She wished she could understand what really happened with that last suicide, the Edoran mine were other groups too. She asked, "What about these smaller groups, wearing the gray and black, and that other group in red and black, and those there, in the metallic silver and black?"

"Those are groups from P2A-509, PWW-98C and P26-007."

"Do you know anything about _their_ backgrounds? Because I don't know anything at all about them."

"I heard that most all of those men were taken directly from their prison populations." He paused and then added, "But I don't know that for a fact, it's just something I heard."

They continued their tour while Janet, trained in bioenergetic analysis, searched for signs of emotional distress and chronic tension that would be reflected as rigidity in body areas such as the thoracic, diaphramatic, abdominal and pelvic areas. She was keeping a "scorecard" of sorts, checking and observing every planetary group on every sub-level, just looking, searching the men's faces for signs of depression, anxiety, trauma or exhaustion, any kind of dysfunction; but everyone looked happy, positive, cheerful.

Yes, it was true, she noticed cameras everywhere, in every conceivable location, as if watching the men's every move. She thought, you would think that'd make the men nervous. But, on the other hand, she noticed a room set aside as a quiet room, or maybe for meditation? She saw what looked like mats on the floor for meditation, and candles lit, making for a peaceful atmosphere. And at one end of the floor on sub-level 2, some of the men were on break, playing a kick-ball game something like soccer, while other men on break sat at tables drinking coffee and talking, looking thoroughly relaxed. Janet saw nothing but happy faces, everyone wearing their headphones, some of the men humming along with the pop music coming through the headphones.

They were now descending into the 3rd mining sub-level, which wasn't as brightly-lit as the other floors. The dimmer atmosphere produced a smokey look which made the lights appear rimmed in argon-blue, or like old-time gas lamps; when McKeller stopped to look at an evacuation route diagram, he had to use his flashlight.

As Jack came on the floor he thought he saw Garan, back there in the shadows, standing against the wall. Could Garan be working in the mines? There were relatively few Edorans who'd come to work the mines, could Garan be one of them? Garan was Laira's son and as Jack's mind zoomed off to Laira he thought, I can't have come all this way and not see her. Who knows, I may never come this way again. But then Jack lost sight of Garan, couldn't see him anywhere, if it was even really him. He didn't know where he'd disappeared to, so he kept an eye out for him but never did see him again.

McKeller was still checking gas lines, pipes, drains, container rooms, cable and equipment rooms and everything else he could see in no particular order or organized system, just looking at anything that presented itself. As the group got closer to the south end of the 3rd sub-level they were approaching a UEC administrative office and it was just then that their attention was drawn away from inspections and tours because what happened next made Jack and the others wonder if they had finally found their man; they were seeing just the kind of behavior they'd expect from a potential suicide:

A man wearing a hooded sweatshirt that covered his face and colors was running towards them fast; he let out a scream and came straight at them until he got close and threw what looked like a home-made smoke ball, cherry-sized and made of cardboard and chemicals which made a tiny explosion as it hit an embankment of loose dirt and gravel, sending a cloud of dust swirling around them. Then the man took-off running towards the wall where the fire alarm box was located. He had no weapons that they could see, probably no threat, but looking crazy! and now running at full speed straight towards the wall on the east side of the floor. As he reached the wall ...

Actually** ... **the man _was_ hearing voices, or rather, one voice, giving instructions, directing him exactly what to do over the music playing on his headphones: he was to set-off the fire alarm and then get out of there! He tripped the alarm and as the alarm blared he immediately broke into a sprint towards the north exit at the far end of the floor.

Jack yelled, "Grab him! Grab that guy!" shouting at anyone who was nearby, anyone who could grab him, but none of the workers moved an inch; they weren't about to get involved. Workers there on sub-level 3 who hadn't seen what happened thought it was a fire drill or maybe an actual fire somewhere in the complex and began moving towards the stairwells.

Deputy Green was closest and gave chase; he pulled out his Glock and his radio, dropped his duty belt, took off at a trot and in seconds went into a sprint; the man with the hood was running fast, way out in front. Green was in good shape and could do a mile in about 7:25 if he pushed and maybe faster if he pushed more, but in some places he was now navigating through a crowd. Jack and Teal'c started to run, then stopped; the man was already too far ahead and running fast. They went back to join McKeller and Janet, who stayed behind. The elevator was nearby but the car had automatically gone up to the ground floor, only usable with an engineer's over-ride key. McKeller said, "Let me bring it down so we can get up there and catch that guy." He was about to insert the over-ride key when a UEC foreman named Elbanco, heavy-set and tall like McKeller but younger, laid a hand on McKeller's arm and said, "You can't do that. The rules say no over-ride except for a fire or other safety emergency."

McKeller: "Well, _this_ is an emergency!"

Elbanco: "No it isn't. You saw as well as I did, there's no fire, just an obviously deliberate act of vandalism."

McKeller knew the man, didn't like him much. Potential suicide or otherwise, he knew better than to expect cooperation from Elbanco, or from anyone with UEC.

Both the hooded runner and Green were running fast and avoiding the stairwells which were packed. Instead, they were running the oval ramp that wound up through the sub-levels. Green sped-up with a burst of speed, rounded the bend and again another burst of speed on the oval's straight-a-way. The hooded runner opened up another length of twenty yards or so on Green but Green still had him in sight. Green chased him up around the second sub-level ramp and kept running hard but the runner up ahead was picking-up speed. They kept racing, around and through sub-level 2, Green pushing himself to the limit but gaining no ground, until, by the time they'd reached level 1, the hooded runner opened up still another twenty yards on Green. Deputy Green was fast but not fast enough, because when the man wearing the hood hit the ground-level exit he disappeared into the crowd of traffic coming outside from the U-Tower. He may have discarded the hood because Green couldn't see him, the man disappeared into the crowd.

What Green and SG-1 didn't know: the voice the man wearing the hood heard was the voice of the Manager-in-Chief, giving specific directions; tripping the fire alarm was nothing more than a tactic intended to distract the engineer and SG-1 from going into the nearby UEC administrative office - which was where they'd been processing naquadah into liquid naquadah. As it turned-out, it worked. What Green also didn't know: the name of the hooded runner was _Che_, and when he wanted to, Che could run almost as fast as a cheetah.

o0o

SG-1 and the rest of their group headed back to the marshal's HQ. Meantime, Daniel was finally up and out of his room, getting coffee and also making his way en route to the HQ. When he got there everyone greeted Daniel warmly. Sam went to give him a hug, Teal'c offered his hand and Jack asked, "So, Daniel, are you back?"

"I'm back. Sort of."

Sam asked, "How's the migraine?"

"In retreat. Not a hundred percent, but getting there. Listen, Deputy Sparks, a question for you: can you give me a little coaching on your computer file system, show me how to get in and access the UEC file photographs, navigate through a little bit?"

"Sure," Sparks answered, "no problem, there's not much to it."

Jack: "What is it, Daniel, have you got something?"

Daniel hesitated before he answered, he had nothing more than a hunch.

"Come on, Daniel, please tell me you've got something, _anything_!"

"Jack, all I've got is a hunch, and probably none too substantial, either."

Jack looked at him hard and raised his voice: "Listen, Daniel, if you've got a _none too substantial_ _hunch_, that's better than what _we_have. Let me tell you what we have, let me sum it up for you, Daniel: WE'VE GOT NOTHIN'."

11


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

When Daniel finally left his room, settled down next to Sparks and began searching through the file system in the marshal's office, Dr. Frasier settled down in an easy chair in the medical office, cup of coffee in-hand and a notebook and tape recorder. She turned on the recorder and continued her transcription of Daniel's story from where she'd left off ...

...

...

Daniel, at UCLA in an archaeology class, was bored and barely paying attention to the professor, who was lecturing about: "... measuring sections of Mesozoic sedimentary rocks ... looking for artifacts such as quartz points, bone fragments, pottery sherds, chert blades, fire-cracked rock, chipping waste ... ... mapping undeformed sedimentary strata ... ... mapping folded and faulted Paleozoic sedimentary strata ..."

Daniel faded in and out, as the professor droned on: "In your site report, note the location by quadrant, and the level, noting depth in centimeters or meters ... you would be expected to recognize igneous, metaphorphic and sedimentary petrology ... radiocarbon dating analysis ... petrologic analysis ..."

Daniel drifted into a daydream, imagining himself working as an archaeologist in Kenya, working side by side with Mary Leakey or perhaps with Donald Johanson, who discovered Lucy in Ethiopia in 1974.

He thought of Leakey and Johanson as searchers, looking for the anthropological holy grail, the missing link. Was Lucy, designated as Australopithecus afarensis, really in the Homo sapiens line and therefore one of our known ancestors, or was she of some other, unknown lineage? Johanson's search and its objectives fascinated him. He imagined himself there in Africa at night, after a hard, sweaty day in the field, sitting in a bar in downtown Nairobi, relaxing over a tall, cool drink, discussing Australopithecus and Homo habilis with an older archaeological colleague, the sounds of the bustling city outside in the background ... and next to him was Suzanne. Maybe in khaki shorts and a halter top ...

"Mr. Jackson," the professor called out. "I asked you a question. Are you with us, Mr. Jackson?"

o0o

Daniel became aware of a fragile side to Suzanne, when she talked about her problems with allergies and occasional bouts of heavy-duty migraine which, though luckily infrequent, could nevertheless wreak havoc when they came on. She also spent some time talking about growing up in the absence of her parents; and about any number of people who came into her life and always seemed to leave, all too often, always too soon.

Daniel's own vulnerability, he felt, was more than a match for whatever fragility Suzanne might live with. Daniel too, in those days, suffered from allergy and migraine attacks that could be even worse than Suzanne's. Like Suzanne, Daniel was an only child growing up without his parents. In his case, after his parents' fatal accident at the Manhattan Museum of Art, his grandfather refused to adopt him. More than one doctor had diagnosed his allergy and migraine attacks as the result of the emotional trauma from his grandfather's rejection, following, as they said, "an already weakened sense of ego-function after the death of your parents."

And as usual, one thing weighed on his mind more than anything else, something that troubled him and which he felt no one else would understand. That was one of the reasons he began to feel close to Suzanne: he felt she would understand, he could talk to her. The issue was his career.

He told Suzanne: "I have this natural facility for languages, so I grew up with a lot of expectations, a need to excel, to accomplish something, to make a name for myself. But so far there's been no unique archaeological find, no original thesis, nothing to justify the expectations other people have for me and I have for myself."

Suzanne: "But you're only nineteen! You're in your first year of graduate school. You can't put that kind of pressure on yourself."

"I can't help it, it's there, it's always there."

He spoke fifteen languages at this time, but had not yet developed the kind of original work that was demanded by his linguistic skills and his extensive knowledge of mythology. He was actually, from a certain perspective, an under-performer. If you spoke fifteen languages and were still learning more, expectations were intense and constant; if spectacular results didn't soon follow, it felt like failure.

o0o

Suzanne Bek stood at the corner of Comstock Avenue, facing the sun, her eyes closed, taking in the rays. Daniel stood facing her, looking at her.

She said, "I like to get a little sun on my face every day, when there's sun. Not a lot."

"You're not concerned about ultra-violet rays?"

"I'll take that chance."

"There _is_ no such thing as chance, according to Rae Rae. Come to think of it, I've heard Geyelyn say the same thing."

"I'm still waiting to meet Geyelyn. Hope I can, sometime."

They were walking from Selby Avenue through Westwood towards Holmby went on about Chomsky's work, comparing the famous linguist's ideas with the problems he was still having in his attempt to decipher Linear A. Suzanne listened patiently, trying to be encouraging, as usual. Eventually Daniel moved to a new favorite subject, talking about the idea of a _vision quest_, describing it to Suzanne as Rae had described it to him.

Daniel said, "Rae Rae thinks it'd be good for me if I tried the vision quest experience, in New Mexico."

Suzanne wasn't sure how she felt about Daniel going on a vision quest, but didn't want to be negative and just said, "I like Rae Rae. I'd like to get to know her better."

As they walked, Daniel found himself reflecting on Geyelyn's esoteric conception of soul mates or _twin flames_. He asked her, "What do you think of the idea of _soul mates_?"

Suzanne didn't answer for a long minute as they walked, and Daniel thought she might prefer to just not talk about it, but then she said, "I suppose I'm trying to be more practical these days. Trying to think about the future. Trying to figure things out. Maybe when it comes to emotional matters I'm just becoming more of a realist." She sighed. "I don't know, Daniel."

Daniel understood that her life and her plans for the future weren't any more clear-cut than his own, he understood why she wanted to be practical. They walked some more and Daniel asked, "So, did you never think you had anything like a soul mate?"

Suzanne said, "I thought I did once. But I'm divorced, if you remember."

They walked without talking much through the Westwood neighborhood and came into the park. Holmby Hills Park was one of their favorite places. Daniel loved being there with Suz. As they walked within the park, Daniel was still thinking about what Suzanne had said, about being a realist - wondering whether he should read something into it. Because it mattered, because he had come to think in terms of being with Suzanne, as far into the future as it could go. They were walking slowly, Daniel thinking about the whole soul mate thing, and he said, "You know me, Suz, as much of a scientist as I'm _supposed_ to be, I'm really still basically a romantic at heart."

Suzanne knew what he meant and she thought for a minute and then said, "Yes, you are. And I like that about you. And as much of a realist as I'm _trying_to be, I still believe in love."

o0o

A few weeks later a friend of Daniel's, Arnold Toomeson, invited them and some other friends out to his apartment in Brentwood Circle, where he lived with his girlfriend, Gabriella. Arnold drove cab part-time and on a Friday afternoon he picked-up Suzanne and Daniel in his cab and drove them over to his place. He dropped them off and returned the cab to the garage nearby, since he was just coming off his shift. There was no special occasion, except that Gabriella was baking some special brownies.

There were about ten of them altogether, and they sat around the kitchen table, sipping white wine, talking about music, their grad courses and politics while Gabriella kept checking on her baking. Arnold talked about the Socialist Workers Party, which he supported: "Those people take a pledge to abstain from smoking grass, or doing any illegal drugs whatsoever for as long as they're a part of the group. Otherwise, they'd be subject to all sorts of bad press, if anyone was caught and prosecuted."

Somebody changed the music and everybody drifted around the apartment. Daniel drank very little and Suzanne not at all, but everybody else there was getting mildly high. At one point, Suz was in the living room with Arnold, and Daniel found himself in the kitchen alone with Gabriella. It seems she'd always found Daniel attractive, and being as high as she must have been getting, she stopped talking, reached over and kissed Daniel on the lips. Daniel was surprised and pulled back. Gabriella smiled, and walked away. Daniel stood there and then looked into the living room, wondering if Suzanne had seen what happened. She wasn't looking into the kitchen; he didn't know if she'd seen it. It wouldn't have mattered, but ...

Afterwards, Daniel didn't hear from Suz for a few days. She didn't answer her phone. He thought it was the kiss; he didn't really know because she seemed to be avoiding him. It was the study period for finals and he thought, if it wasn't the kiss, she might have got preoccupied with studying or was working on her thesis. Daniel knew there was no one more loyal in a relationship than himself, and he knew how completely committed he was to Suzanne. He was waiting to talk to her.

o0o

December 11th. Daniel got a phone call at night. It was Suzanne.

Suzanne said, "Daniel, listen, there's something I have to tell you."

It sounded ominous. He waited for her to talk.

Suzanne said, "I can't see you anymore."

He didn't know what she was saying and he waited for her to continue.

But the phone was quiet for a minute.

Daniel asked, "Why? Was it the kiss, at Arnold's that day ... Gabriella?"

"What are you talking about?"

He wondered if he should even go on, whether he should even bring it up himself, but he felt like now he didn't have a choice.

"You saw Gabriella kiss me at Arnold's and you're angry, you're just mad at me and ..."

"No, it's nothing to do with that; I know how she is, I knew that didn't mean anything, it's not that."

"Well then, what are you saying? I don't understand. Tell me. I need you to explain this, I can't just ..."

"I found out about your roommate, Geyelyn, and his friend, Linda. I found-out something about her ..."

"What do you mean? What did you find out?"

"Ivy knows someone who knows that woman, Linda Mercado. She's Geyelyn's girlfriend, isn't she? Apparently she and Geyelyn and some others, she mentioned someone named Clemm ... they're part of some kind of group ... she called it a _Circle of the Dead_. It's not just what they believe, their _occult_ ideas, but what they intend to do, their intentions ..."

She trailed off. He couldn't believe it. Whatever she was alluding to wasn't real, wasn't what she imagined. She thought they were a cult. But people in college in those days talked about that sort of "theosophical" subject matter all the time, it didn't mean anything, it was just discussion, all purely theoretical, nothing to take overly seriously. But she wouldn't listen.

Suz continued, "I just really hope Rae Rae isn't part of all that. I like her, she's very real and down-to-earth. She's a good person."

"But Suz, I don't take Geyelyn or anything he says all that seriously. I never have. And anyway, I'm not part of that, I have nothing to do with any of this."

"I can't take that chance. I have no way of knowing what's really going on, what's really happening in that house you live in ..."

This went on for a few more minutes but she had made up her mind and she wasn't going to change it. She seemed more than just concerned and cautious, she seemed scared. Whatever she actually heard and was alluding to was beyond him, she didn't give any hard details. His protestations went unheeded, she wasn't going to be convinced. She said she was afraid of getting involved, as if once entangled in something - whatever she thought it was - she would be unable to get out.

Suzanne said, "I like being alive, Daniel."

"But Suz, listen ... I'm telling you, I don't take that stuff seriously. It's not something ... you can't take it seriously."

"I _do_ take it seriously. And you should too."

"But ... it's not ..."

"No, Daniel. I won't take that chance. I can't. I'm sorry. Goodbye."

She hung up the phone. The conversation was over. And she was gone.

o0o

Dec. 15th. He was still more in shock than anything else. He had coursework to finish and barely did so. An air of inevitability began to settle around him. Total despondency. Gray gloom sucked him in, like an ocean fog bank it seeped over and through him, pulling him down, everything becoming shades of gray and black.

Three days after he'd talked to Suzanne, Daniel found Geyelyn's room empty. Cleaned out. At first, Daniel thought he'd left early for Christmas vacation but soon found out he was gone, as in _completely gone_, his room cleared out and virtually empty.

Jon said, "It all happened very fast, he said something important came up, just like that. It couldn't wait. He told me to tell you, 'Tell Daniel I said goodbye, I'll get in touch, sorry I didn't have time to say so-long myself.'" Jon hesitated and then said, "For now, Clemm Crawford will take Geyelyn's room."

Daniel asked Jon where Geyelyn was going? Jon said, "He wouldn't say. He only said he was going to LAX, to the International Terminal."

Daniel walked back into Geyelyn's empty room. He didn't know what to think. What was happening? He looked around and noticed a sheet of typing paper with a quotation typed on it, hanging on Geyelyn's wall. He's never noticed it before. Then he realized it must have been covered-up by all the other things that were up on his wall and when he left he decided to just leave was a quote by the physicist, Schrodinger:

_Any living organism delays its decay into thermal equilibrium by its capacity to maintain itself at a fairly high level of orderliness._

He read it again. It took Daniel a few seconds to realize that by "thermal equilibrium," Schrodinger was referring to death.

5


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

February. Daniel found that life at their Selby Avenue house without Geyelyn had its good and its bad: the good was Rachel Mintz, the bad was Linda Mercado's friend, Clemm Crawford. It was that simple.

Clemm had been a friend of Linda's and knew Geyelyn and when Geyelyn left, Clemm asked Jon about the room. Jon had taken him on as a stop-gap, he needed to fill the room to pay the rent. But Daniel soon realized Clemm was nothing like Geyelyn; in fact, Daniel couldn't stand Clemm. For one thing, he believed their new roommate was constantly intoxicated with mind-altering drugs.

Most evenings Clemmens Crawford could be found sitting in the living room, parked in front of the television set, watching the news and ranting on about anything and everything to anyone who would listen, sipping regularly from a tall, slender glass of what looked like green tea but which Daniel suspected was laced with drugs - of one sort or another. Clemm followed the news constantly and ranted on with acid vitriol aimed at Corporations, Big Business, Wall Street, The Banking System, the U.S. Congress and everyone else he considered part of "The System."

"The system's rotting, Jackson," he said, "Rotting from the inside out. You don't know the half of it. Rotten from the core, at its roots, the system is institutionalized exploitation. It's the Master-Slave relationship that they take for granted, they'll do anything to stay on top, to hold power, with their heels on our throats, you know?"

Clemm was tall, about 250 lbs., with long, sandy-blond hair and a scraggly beard. He was a college drop-out, but Daniel had to admit Clemm was intelligent, that he was smart in his way and that he had an incredible memory: there'd been impressive evidence of that, all kinds of little details on a myriad of subjects he never forgot.

Clemm considered himself an "anti-capitalist" and a "revolutionary." He said, "The Founding Fathers were a bunch of gangsters." There was a lot of talk of Pancho Villa, Emiliano Zapata and the Mexican revolution, and he talked about helping illegal Mexicans. He claimed he was working on a plan, that he actually wanted to help illegals get over the border and get settled in Southern California, Texas and Arizona. It was all nonsense and trash-talk, as far as Daniel was concerned.

Clemm said, "I've got a plan, man, to help these people. What would you expect from a direct descendant of Pancho Villa."

By which he meant, Daniel knew, a "descendant" via reincarnation. His plans sounded outlandish enough, but seemed all the more implausible considering how often he appeared looped on drugs, probably psychedelics. Clemm's brain must be addled, Daniel thought, thinking of the constant rants. Daniel thought Clemm might be dealing drugs too, but didn't know that for a fact. He considered him a nuisance to society.

By the end of January Daniel learned that some people referred to Clemm as "the chemist," apparently because he was working on his own versions of "designer drugs," mixing narcotics, amphetamines and a multitude of potent hallucinogenics into his own formulas and inserting them into capsules. It was pure mix and match experimentation. One afternoon, Daniel found out the larger significance of Clemm's bio-chemistry experiments.

Clemm said, "Look, Jackson, we have to save ourselves, no one else is gonna do it. The system's going down fast, add it up, it's simple math, man. The fat cats, the corporate oligarchies actually, they're making a mess, I'm talkin' economics mainly but there's no way to know if the environmental damage is irreversible either. You'll see, give it time, there's no way we'll survive unless we're saved and like I said, I'm not waitin' on the Lord or anyone else to do it. We need a whole new approach from a whole new direction."

Daniel asked, with little real interest, "But you've got a plan, right?"

"Look, Jackson, "I don't want to make your head spin but my idea of salvation will come from the ascended planes, which is plural, by the way. Whether we reincarnate in a physical body or on another plane it's the same, we have choices. We can control the process. Match yourself with the right plane and you'll have mastery, control over everything on that plane. You know the idea, if someone's born on Krypton with a red sun, on Earth he's a Superman to everyone else. Nothing supernatural about it."

He stopped, then added, "Only thing is, we need a push. We need acceleration."

Sometimes Daniel played along, mostly out of a low-level curiosity or a slightly sick fascination as to what level Clemm's addled brain had sunk. Daniel asked, "What kind of _acceleration_ are you talking about?"

Clemm answered, "There's an optimum time to advance, but the calculus is still basically a passive approach. What I'm working on, it's all part of an _evolutionary push_. It's how we can produce some degree of _acceleration_. I'm learning how to _accelerate_ the process through bio-chemical engineering."

He stood there, frowning at Daniel with his own skeptical look. Clemm picked up his glass of tea and asked, "You don't have the slightest clue about what I'm saying, do you, Jackson? Not even the vaguest inkling of what I'm talking about?"

It was finally dawning on Daniel that Clemm Crawford's belief in a theoretical calculus had become something less "theoretical," but just what it would amount to he didn't know. Probably just more nonsense. Regardless, it had to be some bastardized perversion of Geyelyn's ideas - degenerate in the extreme.

"You believe in evolution, Jackson, don't you? Well, it just needs a little push. We have to take control. Isn't that what we all want - control over our own fate?"

"Yeah, but you've taken an idea that's already bizarre and raised it to the 3rd or 4th power."

"Bizarre? It's _your_ life that's bizarre, Jackson. Because you're in lock-step with the corporate New World Order and you go along with it. Look around you. The global oligarchy's in control, it's all coordinated by the corporations, with help from the fat-cat money men bankers and their lackeys in the government. Congressmen, senators, the administration, what a joke. It's all coordinated, it's a monolithic juggernaut and you have no concept of the fact that you're part of it, that you _help_ make it happen! It's all becoming more interconnected, it's a _hive_, man, we're becoming a _hive_! Like insects!"

He pulled out a dollar bill from his wallet. "Do you know what the words on this dollar bill mean?" He pointed at the words, _Novus Ordo Seclorum:_ "It means New World Order - as good a translation as any ..."

Daniel interrupted, "We've had that motto on our currency since the early years. Maybe," Daniel said sarcastically, "our Founding Fathers were part of the conspiracy?"

"_Founding Fathers_?" he yelled with disgust, getting even more worked-up. "They were a bunch of gangsters, believe me. Highway robbers. You don't know real history, man, you've had the wool pulled over your eyes like everyone else." He took a swig from his glass. "The next revolution won't be a social or military revolution like Pancho Villa's - they've got us too bound-up solid, unable to move, constricted tight like in a vise, or a straight-jacket. The next revolution has to come from an entirely different direction."

He ranted on like that for a while, making little sense. Daniel tried to counter Clemm's raggedy over-generalizations with rational counter-arguments, but to no avail. Daniel could see that Clemm was hyped-up on drugs and only wanted to talk, not listen.

"Jackson, you believe everything they tell you, you can't see anything for yourself because you're so caught in the system, you're completely locked-up. You need to loosen up, man, you're all wound up tight. Keep going that way, one of these days you're gonna explode." Clemm offered Daniel his glass of green tea. "Take a hit of this, Jackson, you need it."

"What the hell is it anyway?"

"It's just green tea, man, with some herbal ingredients. A trace of absinthe liqueur's the only active ingredient. It's all healthy stuff."

"No thanks. It's probably got a lot more in it than that, probably laced with uppers, downers, psychedelics ... I don't know, something."

"Aaaah, you're paranoid, man, you know that? You're paranoid."

o0o

Another night, Clemm had a book by Erich Von Daniken, who wrote _Chariots of the Gods_ in 1968. Clemm was big on Von Daniken. Daniel hadn't read it carefully but knew the general scope of it. He said, "Most of Von Daniken's claims are ridiculous. No, not some of them, _all_ of them!"

"Listen, man, you don't know what you're talking about. And even if any of his evidence is wrong, and I say _if_ - that still wouldn't prove his basic theory ... about ancient astronauts, must be false."

The logic was correct, Daniel admitted, and asked, "What specific examples does he give as evidence?"

"There's the medieval Piri Reis Map, which shows the Earth as it is from space. The Nazca Lines in Peru were probably landing strips for an ancient airfield. We're talking B.C., you know. And there's all kinds of ancient art, everywhere in the world, showing pictures of space vehicles. And what about the Bible? There's Ezekiel's description in the Old Testament, I'm sure you know about that? Ezekiel's describing a space vehicle, man, are you aware of that?"

Daniel didn't even want to respond. He said, dismissively, "A space vehicle! It's ridiculous."

"Why is it ridiculous?"

Daniel found it all too outlandish and absurd. He was first and foremost a scientist. Von Daniken's evidence just wasn't _scientific_.

But Clemm said, "Geyelyn always liked Von Daniken."

"Is that right?"

"He took it seriously. Where do you think I got this book?"

Daniel could feel his wheels turning and felt he had to step back. Somehow an idea like extraterrestrials having visited Earth, like _any_ idea, was completely different in Clemm's hands than it would be in Geyelyn's. For Geyelyn he had respect, while Clemm filled him only with disdain and disgust. He realized and admitted he had a hard time separating out his beliefs and presuppositions from the people who held them. But at this time such an insight was merely an inkling, and it would be a long time before he could make use of it as real, practical knowledge.

They'd both stopped talking. Finally Clemm asked, "What about the pyramids?"

"What about them?"

"Have you ever been there, Jackson, ever actually _seen_ the pyramids up close?"

"Yes, of course, several times. I've been inside, too. Have you?"

"I have. April, 1980. Tripped out, man. So, did our _student wonder_ make any unique discoveries? Did the _boy wonder_ reach any original conclusions, maybe find some earth-shaking evidence of something extraordinary? Anything _at all_ to justify your academic existence?"

Clemm waited, knowing Daniel had not. Even though at that time Daniel's trips to Egypt were rather brief and limited in scope; even though Daniel knew his time would come; still, bottom line, Daniel felt there was nothing he could say. Clemm knew how to get to him.

Clemm: "What you need is a whole new alternative interpretation, an alternative logic. What you need, Jackson, is an illumination."

He paused, looking off in the distance, as if he could see the pyramids right now, at this very moment.

"And I have the perfect pharmaceutical to help open your mind, the next time you go to Giza."

Daniel was stupefied: "Are you serious? You can't be serious!"

Clemm said, "It worked for me. I can let you have it for fifty bucks."

o0o

March. Daniel accompanied Rae Rae when she did volunteer work at the women's rape crisis center if she was coming home after dark, and likewise, when she went once a week to the Food Co-op. One night, walking home with Rae, Daniel mentioned that Geyelyn had once told him that he'd put Linda Mercado under hypnosis and then later had a hard time bringing her out of it. Apparently, it took quite a long time. They both laughed, because it was just the sort of thing Rae and Daniel would have expected from Geyelyn. It was just one of many "Geyelyn stories" they traded.

Daniel and Rae Rae became close. They exchanged confidences, told secrets. Rae said, "I want to tell you something, something very personal, something I've told only a few other people. When I was growing up I had a recurring nightmare: I was in a dungeon room, where someone or sometimes several people tortured me, and night after night I had that dream."

Daniel almost whispered, "Do you know what was causing the dream?"

Nodding yes, she said, "It was a bad time, both for me and my family. We lived on Long Island and when my father was falsely accused of some ... wrong doing, he lost his job. We had to move into the city. My mother was upset about everything, and angry at my father. It was all so unfair." She hesitated, then said, "But that's not all."

Daniel listened without interrupting as they walked slowly, getting close now to Selby Avenue. Rae went on, "I was in 10th grade at the time, in a new school, new neighborhoods. One night after school, I was raped. That's what caused the dreams, Daniel. It was a really hard time."

Rae stopped talking and Daniel was quiet too, not sure what to say. But as he was about to respond Rae stopped him and said, "Things got better. It took some time, but I gradually came out of it. But I'd been gaining a lot of weight so my therapist suggested riding a bike. I found I liked riding - I've never stopped. That's something good that came out of it. By the way," Rae said, brightening, "in May, as soon as finals are over, I'm leaving on a bicycle trip through New England. I'm just gonna get on my bike and go, doesn't that sound great? I told you I believe in _direct action_, right?"

o0o

Rae liked playing the role of therapist to Daniel and took it seriously. Daniel once mentioned that his parents died in an accident when he was only eight years old.

Rae asked, "Do you remember anything about your mother?"

"Not much."

"Tell me what you remember."

"I remember the birthday party she gave for me when I was five years old. I remember walking with her to a new house we were moving to, when I was six. I remember songs she used to sing to me in bed at night. Little things, that's about all."

Rae planned to become a clinical psychologist and she really did know how to fill that role: listening with attention while directing the talk without inserting herself much into the discussion, being patient and non-judgmental. One day, she helped him relax by showing him special relaxation techniques. And every so often, she'd ask Daniel to tell her a dream from the dream journal she had him keep. He'd get out his journal and tell it to her:

"I'm in my bedroom, the house I grew up in. The window's open, the wind rustles through the room and right through me. It's a windy room but it's me too, it rustles through me, as if there's nothing there at the center of me.

"Then I'm in a car, a taxi, and it drops me off in some field, or a wide, empty plain. The wind rustles through the fields, it's farming country, like Kansas, something like that. The wind rustles through the fields and it's an eerie, spooky kind of feeling. The driver says, 'There's no place like home, there's no place like home,' like Dorothy in _The_ _Wizard of Oz_. I start to look at his face - then I wake up."

"That's an interesting dreamscape, Daniel. What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. What do _you_ think it means?"

"I'll give it some thought. Let's both think about it."

For Daniel, Rae was a roommate, a friend and a confidante - not to mention a therapist. They became more and more close.

April. One evening, Jon showed Daniel a newspaper article in the Los Angeles Times. It was far back in the local news section, just a picture and a short paragraph. Jon gave it to Daniel and said, "I thought you'd like to read this. Someone you used to know, wasn't it?"

The article showed a picture of Linda Mercado, and below was a caption that said,_ Rare Book Collector Missing._The short paragraph went on to describe who she worked for, what her job involved and where she was last seen, which was Barcelona.

o0o

Clemm continued his routine, hanging out in the living room in front of the TV, tracking the news or just wasting time, drinking his tea, ranting on and on and on. Daniel wished he could avoid him but that wasn't easy. Any day of the week or any time of day, when Daniel passed through the room Clemm would start up:

"Listen, man, they want to _rationalize_ the system and a rationalized system is a an organized system with a common goal and a common means and the common goal is the profit motive and the common means is free-market capitalism. Why should we interfere when, looking down from above, the Invisible Hand of the Free Market is always watching and maintaining its super-human, constant equilibrium?"

Clemm claimed to be looking for a job but it was obvious to Daniel that he was not actively seeking employment. Instead, he tried to borrow money from Daniel and also repeatedly asked to borrow Daniel's clothes; when Daniel said no he would take them anyway when Daniel wasn't around. He'd often take Daniel's favorite motorcycle riding jacket, a light-weight, shell-type jacket with six pockets and an enclosable rain hood and bring it back with pockets full of pieces of broken pencils, scraps of paper, popcorn kernels, peppermints, tic-tacs, wads of chewing gum and other motley items of junk.

Clemm ranted on: "Yeah, man, they want us all to be world-citizens, because world-citizenship requires spending and consuming as much as possible, to insure growth, which is really the growth of producing, spending and consuming. You know what I mean, a truly rational system means everything fits, world-wide, there should be as few jagged edges as possible. A truly rational system is a global system, all integrally connected. It's the rationalization of history, it's Hegel, man, it's Kojeve. You got to know about this stuff."

Clemm talked about "mind control." He said, "Are you aware of the CIA's experiments using psychiatric drugs to induce a coma? It was called Project Mkultra. They weren't shy, either, about using extended ECT - shock treatment, and lobotomy. They weren't shy about anything!"

He went on and on, as usual. "What about Deep Sleep Therapy? Do you even know about that? Dr. Jacob Klaesi. Wild stuff, man. It's a science, you know, brainwashing, thought control. It's worth getting a handle on, don't you think?"

One night, after Daniel left and Clemm eventually went upstairs to his own room, obviously intoxicated with his own experimental drugs, Daniel came back down to the living room on his way into the kitchen. He noticed a sheet of paper on the table, folded, under Clemm's glass of tea, now empty. He recognized Geyelyn's old note paper - he knew the kind of paper Geyelyn always used - and saw something carefully printed-out, in the same careful style Geyelyn always used. Clemm must have taken it from Geyelyn's room a long time ago. Geyelyn's voice came to mind as he read the note:

Your guide is a ray from above.

Knowledge enters via the Queen's Chamber.

Granted questions you may be,

But of an answer no guarantee.

Daniel turned the sheet of paper over, to see if there might be anything on the other side. There was. In the drug-looped scrawl that was Clemm's handwriting, he found this:

_I was surrounded by colors and sounds _

_which so dazed me, that for a while _

_I was oblivious to the passage of time and_

_insensible of my location, but when I recovered _

_I found that a revolution had occurred. _

_Viva la revolucion. Viva Villa!_

Daniel thought, Clemm is insane.

o0o

May. Daniel was completely unprepared for what happened next. It was late in May, finals were over, many students had already left for the summer. It was unseasonably hot - a heat wave must have come in. With so much heat, he got on his bike and drove out to Venice Beach, looking to cool off. He drove back and in the late afternoon Daniel got the terrible news; Jon told him, "Rae Rae was hit by a car while she was riding her bike. She died immediately. She didn't suffer."

Daniel couldn't process what Jon was saying. Jon went on, telling him, "She was out riding her bike, getting ready for her bike trip through New England this summer. A car hit her and apparently she died on contact. She didn't suffer. I'm sorry, Daniel, I know you two were close."

Daniel stood there, unable to move, unable to talk. He heard what Jon said but it wasn't hitting him; it didn't seem real, as if the awful, absurd news refused to sink in.

Days passed. Daniel felt devastated. Many times, just wanting to get away, he got on his bike and drove and drove, out to Riverside, San Bernardino, Banning, Palm Springs, Yucca Valley, Joshua Tree, Twentynine Palms. One time, with the Twentynine Palms Indian Reservation to the north, he parked his bike and walked into the Joshua Tree National Monument. He walked some fifty yards into the desert. So many thoughts were going through his mind. Rae's death and Geyelyn's disappearance weighed on his mind. He had questions, he felt there were pieces missing. That day he decided one thing: he wanted to find Geyelyn.

But weeks passed and then months and he was unable to find a single lead about one knew anything. People who had known him were gone, anybody still around knew nothing. Or admitted nothing. He got nowhere.

o0o

Janet turned-off the tape recorder. Daniel's story wasn't finished and she wished she could continue but she had patients to see. She'd have to get back to his story when she could.

9


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

McKeller had gone back to his rounds and his work and the marshal had a meeting to attend. While Sam went back to the office she shared with Janet Frasier and the medic, and Jack and Teal'c went to check on some Segway vehicle repairs, Daniel sat at the computer console with Deputy Sparks, looking through file pictures of UEC workers, management - actually, everyone in the system, looking for anyone he might recognize. Starting with managers, he went through file after file, picture after picture, until he came to the Manager-in-Chief. The file said the Chief's name was _Arturo Zalonis_. The picture did look vaguely familiar, but this man's head was shaved, he was wearing glasses, and fifteen years had passed. There was no way of knowing for sure, no way of being sure he would ever recognize him. Could have had cosmetic surgery, for all Daniel knew.

The file pictures were "head-shots" only, and the only relevant information attached was the name and nationality. The nationality listed for Arturo Zalonis was Greek. Daniel asked Deputy Sparks, "Who does the Chief answer to?"

Sparks: "We used to think everybody there answers to the General Manager but the marshal said that when he interviewed the G. M., he told him that, in practice, the Chief is the hands-on guy for UEC and doesn't have to get approvals from him, that the Chief answers to someone higher up at UEC Corporate, probably the owner of UEC. The General Manager told the marshal the Chief's position fills a dual role and that the chain of command and communication channels for UEC were set up in the General Agreement."

Sparks was leafing through a copy of the General Agreement. "I guess it's in here somewhere."

Daniel just wasn't sure. He started over again, alphabetically, looking for familiar faces. Hours passed and finally he was back again at the "Z"'s. Arturo Zalonis. He looked hard at the picture. Arturo Zalonis? No, couldn't be. Daniel didn't even know why he was bothering. His suspicions were based entirely upon unfounded intuition. He thought - no, it can't be him, just forget it. And echoing through the back of his mind from long ago, a voice came back to him: "You're paranoid, man."

_ 

Smooth jazz and easy-listening music was piped-in to the U-Tower's common areas and into the headphones worn by the mine workers twenty-four hours a day. It carried a message: "Go with the flow. Support UEC. Go with the flow, go with the flow, go with the flow. Support UEC," and similar messages, but nobody heard them, at least not that they were aware. The message was subliminal, layered underneath the music everyone heard.

Programmed and orchestrated by the Chief, the music delivered a cocktail of psychobehavioral conditioning, designed to help keep the workers in line and on board or at least uncritical of UEC's shady operations and their many General Agreement transgressions. Wearing headphones was required for everyone working in the three mining sub-levels. They were told it was for hearing protection. In fact, it did provide protection, but if that had been the real motive, ear plugs would have been cheaper and about as effective.

Actually, the headphones amplified the subliminal messages in the music through the use of "binaural beats," which could be used as a conditioning tool. The Chief knew research on binaural beats started with Heinrich Dove's discovery in 1839, but he got the real foundation for his own research from Gerald Oster's 1973 laboratory findings on the subject. In brief, if sound frequencies below 1000 Hz were added in with the music, having a difference in frequency between the left and right ears but keeping the difference at less than 30 Hz, then the mix would affect brain waves in the listener. Depending on the particular frequencies used, listeners could be made even more susceptible to the subliminal messages piped-in with the music. That was the real reason for the headphone requirement. Completely unknown to them, all the workers on the sub-levels were being conditioned or "entrained" subconsciously while they worked.

It mostly worked. But conditioning via the music and headphones could only go so far. Even the most effective system was not fool-proof, and there would always be a few who didn't succumb to its effects. These few became a problem.For the Chief, "problem workers" were those who were on the verge of blowing the whistle and trying to cash-in on Adrian Conrad's naquadah smuggling operation.

The Chief had a formidable weapon in his conditioning arsenal for dealing with this type of situation, a process he'd developed in the course of his experiments. You could call it hypnotism or brainwashing or _implantation_: its effect was to reach deep into the unconscious mind, producing much more profound effects than anything of this type ever seen before. The process required the use of special drugs, which he could develop and produce himself, which induced a "deep sleep," putting the subject into a pliant, highly suggestible hypnotic state.

The drugs were derived from a combination of barbiturates, such as Nembutal, and classes of hallucinogens that included the tryptamines, lysergamides, phenethylamines, piperazines, x-Opiod receptor agonists and anticholinergics. Among the particular hallucinogens he liked working with most were Atropa belladonna, ibogaine, Trichocereus peruvianus, Argyreia nervosa and, one of his favorites, the potent and always dependable Salvia divinorum.

By blending these drugs, his years of experimentation produced a drug combination that left a person disoriented and psychologically defenseless; in conjunction with effective subliminal brainwashing techniques used while the subject was sunk in deep sleep, the chosen target could be easily manipulated.

But there was more. What was most unique in the Chief's experiments combining drugs, deep sleep and subliminal conditioning, were the results of his experiments with naquadah. While experimenting to find improvements in the naquadah refining process, he discovered that small amounts of naquadah would mask the detection of his special drug combination. If small amounts of naquadah were ingested or injected into the bloodstream, the naquadah acted to mask the drugs introduced into a person's system.Thus, adding in the naquadah factor, the drugs rendered his unfortunate victims highly controllable while remaining completely undetectable.

That's the reason why, when Janet and Sam's investigation went in that direction, they got nowhere.

One afternoon,six workers underwent _programming_ together in a single group session. The actual process went something like this: six "trouble-makers" or potential whistle-blowers were identified, ordered into the Chief's office and forced to drink a small vial containing a dark, blue liquid. As the workers fell into a deep sleep, the Chief went to work with brainwashing techniques that were much like high-powered hypnosis, and a subliminal _program_ was implanted deep inside each man's unconscious mind.

Ultimately, the result was six suicides, but the Chief's justification was that they weren't programmed to commit suicide; as he'd told Che, they were told: _If you can't go with the flow and support UEC, you WILL commit suicide._"

The six suicides in relatively quick succession were unexpected. Who should take the blame? The Chief could have blamed Adrian Conrad; he felt Conrad had pressured him, but he also knew that Conrad wouldn't have suggested and insisted on it if he didn't believe the Chief could and would do it if required. In any case, the Chief still believed these men had been given choices. He had given these men options and ultimately it was their own choice.

On the other hand, he firmly believed that, even with the programming, no one would commit suicide if there were any other option. Suicide without a psychological compensation couldn't be programmed; it should only have caused anxiety, or outright fear at worst, not suicide. It simply never should have happened. He checked and double-checked his data, searching for an answer. Eventually, he came to believe the fire rain had something to do with it, but that was something he would never know for sure, something he'd never be able to prove. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter** **8**

While Daniel continued poring over files in the marshal's HQ and Carter joined Dr. Frasier in the Medical Office to continue their research, Jack O'Neill was on his way to see Laira - even if he felt some misgivings and his decision was somewhat tentative. You could say it was Teal'c's idea. What happened was, O'Neill and Teal'c had decided to try to push the investigation forward by driving out to the village, "Maybe coax a clue or two out of some ordinary Edorans," as O'Neill put it. "Somebody's got to know something."

Teal'c remarked to O'Neill, with a penetrating look and a raised eyebrow, "Laira is respected as a leader in the Edoran community."

O'Neill might visit Laira, but he didn't want to be pushed. He answered drily, "You're not giving up, are you, T.?"

Teal'c: "Perhaps Laira will be the one who supplies us with the essential clue?"

"Yeah," O'Neill said with a frown. "Indeed."

Sam and Janet asked them to take a few more water and mineral samples en route to the village, which would slow them down a bit but they estimated they'd reach the village by about 1300 hours. At least both men felt good to be back at full strength, fully recovered from the bouillabaisse.

As they drove via the Segways they were each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Teal'c continued to brood over the signs everywhere of damage to soils, water, even the air. He tried to counsel himself to focus on the investigation, since he felt little optimism that things would change here on Edora. As for Jack, he'd never consciously avoided seeing Laira; events had kept him preoccupied with the investigation. Still, he wasn't at all sure about his feelings towards her. He kept remembering their last minutes together, after Teal'c had tunnelled up through the ground to rescue him, before he left her on Edora. They were standing there, and Laira said,

"You must be very happy to be going home."

He answered, "No, I'm not."

She said, "You don't have to."

He asked her to come with him. But Laira said, "I belong here."

He told her, "I'll come back. Soon. We still have that treaty to talk about."

She said, "Of course, our two worlds are going to be friends."

There was a farewell hug, and then he was gone through the Stargate.

But he'd never been back to see her. With a year having passed since then, what did he really feel now? Probably conflicted, more than anything else. But he knew it wasn't something that would just resolve itself. He had a decision to make.

_ 

They were on the U-Tower's 4th floor, in the Chief's work area. The Chief gave his top man a long look and asked, "Che, would you say our men are progressing pretty well?"

Che answered, "If you mean Master Riku's principles, harmony, respect, purity and tranquility, yes, I think so, Chief. Ichi-go, ichi-e."

With the Chief nodding, Che hesitated, then added, thoughtfully, "Although, let's face it Chief, _purity_ isn't foremost for all of the men equally."

The Chief chuckled, but he knew the subject was deadly serious. Because his plan, at least Plan A, depended on it. He asked Che, "Who did you have in mind?"

"Men like Elbanco and Ramiro. They're hot-blooded, they just don't understand, they only take seriously what they want to take seriously, they ..."

"I know, Che," the Chief interrupted, "I know. They're lacking in certain qualities, but you have to understand, it's not simple, there's nothing easy or simple about what we're trying to do."

He looked at Che and said, slowly and firmly, "Don't give up on them, O.K.?"

Che nodded "yes," and the Chief left Che at the console, entering his own personal office. Che was referring to the subject of men without women. Again, his thoughts returned to Tibet, remembering Master Fu's description of kundalini and the yoga of Tantric sex:

"Tantric sex is _sacred sex_, a yoga designed to generate and conserve the orgasmic sexual energy towards a spiritual awakening in the mind. This sexual energy, known in Tantric yoga as the _kundalini_ and conceived as a coiled serpent at rest in the base of the spine, can be directed with practice; it will come coursing through the chakras, rising up along the spine until it reaches the top of the head, known as the _crown chakra_. This sexual energy, the coiled serpent of kundalini, should develop in coordination with the heart and breathing rhythm, integrating and transforming the kundalini's dynamic sexual energy, ultimately producing profound illumination."

That spring and summer in Tibet, Master Fu supervised the Chief, who spent his days painting the dozen wooden cabins that constituted the Master's teaching compound. Every day, all day long, he painted under the Master's direction, using brushes and gallon cans of yellow and red paint, but at night, alongside discussions of the after-life bardos, the Master introduced the Chief to the study of kundalini yoga, Tantric sex and the Kama Sutra.

Vatsayana's Kama Sutra, known today in the West as an ancient "sex manual" from India, was actually much more than that; it recommended that the first three days after marriage be devoted to touching, sensing, _pure sensation_ without any genital touching or contact at all. For example, it prescribed erotic washing, erotic massage and exotic and erotic atmospheres. Only after much preparation did the Kama Sutra then present twenty-two variations of positions for sexual intercourse.

As described by Master Fu, these included the _Indrani Asana position_, the _pressed_ and the _half-pressed positions_, and the notoriously difficult _turning position_. Master Fu told him, "You need some agility and some patience to do the _turning position_. Don't expect success the very first time."

The Chief thought, my first time, I dislocated my right shoulder and sprained my left knee. But what surprised the Chief the most at that time, was the Master's penchant for discussion about lubricants. Master Fu told him, "Young man, I have one practical piece of advice: lubricants."

There followed in-depth discussions about lubricants, including a detailed list and commentary about specific Western lubrication products - water-based versus silicone and oil-based, organic versus artificial, their advantages and disadvantages; his talk even analyzed specific name-brands. The Chief at first found it all rather incongruous, coming from a Buddhist monk, but the Master said he had a supplier from Amsterdam who brought him all sorts of Western lubrication products. Master Fu explained, "My own teacher went to great lengths to import this Western technology, and I am merely continuing the tradition."

Throughout his time there the Master's instruction proceeded to ever more unusual and esoteric subject matter, but there was one particularly important subject the Chief was introduced to that summer: detailed instructions for constructing a kind of _shield_ known as a _merkabah vehicle_. The Chief had believed such an entity to be nothing more than a remote, theoretical possibility; could its existence be real, or was it nothing more than a figment in the imagination of an eccentric old monk?

_ 

Meanwhile, quite unexpectedly, the Council made a decisive move. Every Council Representative understood that, if the matter of the suicides eventually impacted mining production, each and every planet would suffer the consequences. So, contrary to all expectations, late that morning, the members finally issued a mandate to bring together all managers, foremen and lead workers for the purpose of face-to-face interviews with Marshal Griggs and the members of SG-1.

McKeller, in the HQ later talking to Deputy Sparks, speculated how it happened: "Some serious-minded Representative put the measure up for a vote; the first Representative who voted, for some reason voted 'yes.' Since everything has to be unanimous, they all immediately knew if it didn't pass it'd go into debate for hours and hours or even days on end. But see, they really just wanted to get back to the food issue, so ... they probably all voted 'yes' on the naquadah investigation just to be done with it."

Deputy Sparks agreed: "You're right. They're focused on that shipment coming in this afternoon, and right now that's all they care about. They're getting hungry because they're afraid to eat the food."

The interviews were scheduled to begin at 1400 hours that same afternoon in the U-Tower's 9th floor conference room. A general summons was delivered to all parties, and the marshal, Sam, Daniel and Deputy Green went up there to prepare for the interviews.

_ 

In his general quarters on the U-Tower's 4th floor, the Chief asked Che to answer the knock at his door. He was expecting one of his loyalists, his _legitimistas_. Such meetings were not uncommon but today's meeting was especially important.

"Elbanco, welcome. Come in. I hope you're doing well?"

"Very well, Chief, thank you. It's always an honor to meet with you."

"Take a seat, please."

The Chief put a drink in his hand and let him get comfortable. He said, "Elbanco, let me confide in you. Our work continues to go as well as can be expected, considering, as you know, we've had some _issues _to deal with, since the unfortunate suicides."

Elbanco nodded yes, he understood what the Chief was talking about.

The Chief went on, "This is no time to hesitate, we have to persist in our efforts and keep going forward. Elbanco, as one of my most trusted, most dependable comrades, I've invited you here today to recognize you, because your efforts have not gone unnoticed. As of today, you'll become one of my special _Deputies to the Chief_ and you are also being elevated to the rank of Corporal. And remember, Elbanco, each one of us will share equally in the glory of our victory, when our Cause is triumphant, and that will happen sooner than you think."

Elbanco was speechless, as he often was in the company of the Chief.

The Chief went to his wardrobe and opened the closet door. Inside, on a mahogany hanger inlaid with silver, was a cloak of crimson and white - the type worn by Archbishops of the Anglican Church in centuries past. He put on the cloak, which truly made him look like an Archbishop. He continued, "I wore vestments such as this when I was Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1536, the year I oversaw the beheading of Anne Boleyn." The Chief took off the cloak and gave it to Elbanco. "Put this on. Now, close your eyes, as I pronounce a silent invocation for invulnerability on your behalf."

Elbanco closed his eyes. The Chief placed his hands on the man's shoulders and held them there as a few seconds passed.

"You may open your eyes. Elbanco, you are now under my complete protection. No harm can come to you. Only one thing is required in return: that you give me your undivided and unwavering loyalty. That is all. But should you waver, should I detect any trace of disloyalty on your part, all protection would vanish in an instant. And I assure you, my comrade, I would know, I would read it on your face. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Chief. You can count on me, you have my undivided loyalty. I give you my word on it."

The Chief led him to the door, asking him, "You consider yourself a man of character, a man with spirit, don't you, Elbanco?"

Elbanco had not thought of it in those terms, with those words, but he felt the Chief always saw the best in him, saw his potential and expected him to give only his best. He answered, "I do, Chief. I surely do." No one knew better than himself that his record was lackluster, that he was no model _legitimista_, but he also knew he was loyal, that he'd follow the Chief anywhere. At that moment, Elbanco wanted nothing more than to please the Chief, firmly believing his destiny was to follow alongside his boss.

The Chief continued, as he motioned to Che to open the door for Elbanco,"My good Elbanco, if you consistently keep the interests of the Cause clearly in front of you, your own best interests will also be served. The future is yours, your life can be whatever you want to make of it. Always remember that."

Elbanco said, "I will, Chief, thank you, Chief," and left the room.

The Chief said, "Elbanco's a good man, Che, in spite of his weakness. Our practice of erotic sublimation is necessary because it increases the accelerant effect, but it's not for everyone, you understand that, don't you, Che?"

Che began to respond but was interrupted by another knock at the door. Che answered the door and announced, "Chief, it's Ramiro."

The Chief said, "Have him come in, Che."

Che let him in. Ramiro was another of the Chief's legitimistas with a personal invitation to meet with the Chief. They had been coming in all morning. As with Elbanco and many others, the Chief greeted Ramiro as "one of my most trusted, most dependable comrades." Che wasn't surprised to hear the Chief repeat to Ramiro all of what he had said to Elbanco, almost word for word. At last count, Che was thinking, thirteen of their men had been made a _Deputy_ and been elevated to the rank of Corporal.

When the meetings were finished, Che left and went back to surveillance. Not long after mid-day there was another knock on the Chief's door, which was the delivery of the summons for an interview with SG-1. After reading it, he got his archbishop's cloak and wrapped himself in it, focusing intently, pondering his options. He had no intention of presenting himself to SG-1. Minor cosmetic surgery may have worked wonders, but the sound of his voice wasn't something he could effectively disguise. Consequently, taking a chance on being recognized was not an option. And he would get little direct support in this kind of situation from Adrian Conrad. He decided his best course was to get to the Gateroom and take control of things from there. Otherwise, Stargate Command or any other authority could send any number of troops and supplies through the Gate, eventually overwhelming anything the Chief could orchestrate.

He called by radio and asked, "Che, do you have a camera on SG-1?"

"I do, Chief."

"Where are they?"

"Southeast of the lake."

"Let them go. Forget the monitoring."

"Why, Chief?"

"Because it doesn't matter now. We're leaving."

_

Jack and Teal'c, exploring the area between the mining complex and the Edoran village, were taking water and mineral samples and taking photographs, completely focused on their work. At about 1100 hours they stopped to work on a wheel on Jack's Segway. A bolt was loose. They had tools, because their super-size Segways had small platforms on back, with enough room to hold their tools and mineral samples. In a pinch, there was even just enough room for two to ride on one Segway. But they managed to get it fixed; it would hold for a while.

They resumed driving, moving along the lake now, passing two fishing boats tethered to docks on the east side of the lake. The Edorans were good fisherman and farmers. Though they lived without the comforts of modern technology, they had iron tools, were experts with wood, and fashioned boats, comfortable homes and even windmills.

Jack and Teal'c left the lake area, driving northeast on the plain towards the village. About half a mile from the lake, they came across a huge meteor fragment deposited from last year's disastrous fire rain. It was not the first they'd seen but it was the biggest: this fragment was almost as big as a car. Seeing the meteor had Jack remembering last year's strange series of events, when the fire rain threatened to destroy the landscape.

Jack remembered the scene, everyone gathered together as he explained to the villagers, "Folks, we think the fire rain is gonna start hittin' the ground pretty soon. As a precaution, we'd like to take you all back to our planet until the threat is over."

An Edoran elder and leader named Paynan was dismissive about Jack's proposal and said, "There is no threat."

Sam: "If just one big meteor lands within a few miles of here, the resulting explosion could wipe out the entire village."

Paynan: "Year after year the fire rain comes, goes and harms no one. Do you not see what they are doing? They want us gone so they can claim our lands for themselves."

Daniel: "That's not true."

Paynan: "If you go with them, you will never see your land again."

Jack: "Oh for crying out loud, there's always one like you in a crowd. If you want to stay, go ahead and stay."

Laira told the Edorans, "I have come to know these travelers, and though their world seems far, it is only a step away. I will take that step, in good faith. If you wish to follow, join us at the stone ring. If you do not, may the ancestors protect you."

Seconds later a fiery meteor crashed nearby. Most Edorans took the advice of SG-1 and went through the Stargate. Paynan refused to go, and about one third of the Edorans followed his lead, remaining behind. When Laira's son, Garan, and his girlfriend went off on their own to the caves looking for shelter, Jack and Laira went looking and eventually found them but were too late getting back to the Stargate. Too late, because the Stargate was gone. Buried somewhere, with Jack stranded there.

Jack remembered digging each day, the many hours each day spent searching and digging for the buried Stargate, but then less and less as time passed and he couldn't find it and he began resigning himself to a life on Edora. By the time he'd been there almost three months, he was digging no more than one token hour a day, as he spent more and more time helping Paynan and the others rebuild their village. He'd given up, more or less. Until finally Teal'c came back for him, tunneling up through the ground, clawing his way to the surface. Jack remembered that moment, the rush of good feeling, knowing he'd have his life back. He saw Teal'c down there and yelled, "Teal'c, you are one stubborn son of a bitch!"

Jack's memories of last year's events were interrupted ... he could feel the wheel drifting out of kilter again. They stopped to check the bolt on his Segway, tightened it again, now aware it would only hold temporarily; the thread was almost stripped. The time was nearing 1300 hours. Just as they were about to get back on their vehicles Jack and Teal'c saw a large crowd of about fifty or sixty Edorans coming their way, still at some distance but walking as if determined, as if with purpose, some carrying something in their hands, they couldn't yet make out what. Jack and Teal'c stood there, looking, waiting, Jack thinking, What the hell? The Edorans kept walking, advancing towards them. Jack thought, if they're mad about something and they're coming for us, but they're unarmed so we're not gonna use our guns on them, then it might be Custer's last stand all over again. But why would they be coming for us?

They saw the main body of the group stop some thirty-five, forty yards away, holding there. But a group of eight or nine, all younger men, broke loose and ran straight at them. They came rushing in, whooping with something like war cries, one of them brandishing a pitchfork, another swinging a farm hoe and another with a shovel, coming on fast and clearly bent on doing some bodily harm. Sizing it up, it didn't look good: pulling out their Berettas on a bunch of farm equipment-armed Edorans wouldn't go over very well in the official report ... but then quickly the Edorans were on them, all over Jack and Teal'c.

Jack had four men on him. The first one in was moving so fast Jack easily feinted right, then stepped left and stuck out his leg, tripping him up and sending him sprawling. The next one came in close, looking to wrestle. Jack spun him close and then wide, once, twice around, spinning him dizzy and then letting him fly. A third man, small but wiry, was keeping some distance, looking for an opening, as a fourth Edoran moved in swinging an iron farm hoe. Jack dodged and blocked the hoe with a left-handed chop, followed by a right-handed clip under the armpit that rolled the man backwards into the small wiry man who'd been waiting. The man with the hoe recovered, came back at him. Jack knew the hoe had to go, used a two-hand double-chop to the forearm to loosen him up, then muscled it away from him, called out "Teal'c" and sent it airborne to his partner, who had _five_ men on him!

Teal'c had his hands full with five Edorans. Hands full, not because he couldn't handle them but because he was thinking the same way as O'Neill: he didn't want to _hurt_ any of them if he could possibly help it. They hadn't come to Edora to rough up Edoran farm boys.

Teal'c faced one with a pitchfork, one with an unwieldy shovel and three others, but he now had the hoe. He met the pitchfork with the hoe, jamming it between the pitchfork prongs and then twisting it clockwise until the Edoran lost his footing. He wouldn't have lost his footing if he'd let go of the pitchfork, but he didn't and so now he was on the ground, lying there looking up at Teal'c. Teal'c put his boot heel on the man's wrist, stepping just hard enough to make the Edoran let go and the pitchfork fall loose, but now the four others came on.

Teal'c used soft countering techniques in the style of Tai Chi, Wing Tsun and San Shou, easily able to capture one Edoran's center of gravity, lift him up and throw him off and out of the way. Like a juggler, he was keeping them moving, rotating in a circle, a free-flowing defensive machine.

Even trained fighters could hardly anticipate Teal'c's moves, which seemed to come out of nowhere, smooth,deft, perfectly controlled. Using joint traps, locks and breaks on one Edoran blended without a hitch into throws, takedowns and joint breaks on the next. Teal'c kept them off-balance, rolling inside, rolling outside, the men swinging hard at him, lunging at him, running straight at him but getting nowhere. They couldn't touch him, couldn't even lay a hand on him. The master Jaffa was a picture of kinetic power-in-motion.

Meanwhile**,** the four men on Jack were back for another round. As one Edoran rushed at him, Jackthrew a fake punch at his stomach, getting the reaction he wanted and drawing him in, then rolled away, clipped him in the back and sent him smashing into another Edoran. As another Edoran rushed in, Jack feinted, stepped away, feinted, stepped away, ducked under a punch, blocking a swing and kicking one of them into a tangled heap on the ground. They were throwing punches but missing as Jack danced sideways, backwards, thinking the same way as Teal'c: he really didn't want to hurt any of these Edoran young men.Same as Teal'c, he was just trying to keep them off, playing for time, looking for some daylight in the action. But then one came up from behind, pulling and yanking on Jack's hair, hard! Jack yelled and twisted around, stiff-arming the man to his knees; but two more came piling on from behind, hanging on his back. Jack tried shaking them off, couldn't, so he deliberately fell backward on top of them, knocking the air out of two of them and twisting away from the one who'd grabbed his hair.

Jack had just got upright again, standing free of them when the man wielding the shovel slammed it into the front of Jack's Segway with a ringing _clang_, banged it hard once! twice! putting a crooked bend into the frame and axle, about to slam it again when an older man's voice came ringing out**,** "Tof! Rynmar! Stop! Karlan! Kief! Shoen! Stop this! All of you stop right now!" It was Paynan. Between everyone staring at the badly damaged Segway and Paynan's voice of authority, all action came to an immediate halt.

Breathing hard, Jack yelled across the field, "Paynan, what the hell is this all about?"

Paynan yelled back as he walked towards them, "What's it all about? I'll tell you what it's about: there are two Edoran bodies missing from our burial grounds!"

Jack and Teal'c were astounded; someone was stealing bodies from the Edoran graveyard? Who, and why?

Just then, they heard the buzz of static and a call came over the radio: "Marshal Griggs to Colonel O'Neill."

"O'Neill. Go ahead."

"Need you back here immediately, Colonel. We have a situation."

"We have a bit of a situation here too, Marshal."

"Unless it's a matter of life or death, we need both of you back here, ASAP. Come on back, Colonel."

Teal'c caught sight of someone in the crowd farther back, recognized someone, said, "O'Neill," nodding in that direction. Jack looked, picked her out of the crowd. It was Laira. He looked away and yelled out to Paynan, "I'll send the marshal out to see you. Go back to the village."

They didn't have time to stay and discuss the situation or investigate or see what the crowd of Edorans would do. Jack left his damaged Segway there, got behind Teal'c on his Segway as they started back, driving at half-speed. Both men were wondering the same thing: who would steal bodies from the Edoran graveyard? Who would steal them and what for? And what the hell next? 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

At about 1230 hours, just about a half-hour before Jack and Teal'c faced the crowd of Edorans, the loud noise of angry mining workers arguing could be heard on the ground floor of the U-Tower, at the far end of the hallway that led away from the Main Atrium. The Chief was there with his own group of legitimistas and said, "We're going through, whether you like it or not."

A worker answered: "You're not going anywhere."

The Chief responded, "You think you can stop us? You're delusional. Get out of the way before you get hurt."

The Chief had with him a gang of eight, including Che, all well-trained and armed to the teeth with Sig Sauer and Makarov semi-automatics and other firearms, knives and a virtually countless supply of extra clips of ammo. They had come down the U-Tower stairwell into the ground floor hallway and run up against a group of about ten mining workers, also armed, who had come down the U-Tower elevators and marched up the hallway to meet the Chief's gang. They'd heard a rumor about what was going on, heard that the Chief was planning to try to take over the Gateroom, and they wanted no part of the Chief's plans. These workers were independent-minded men who would rather fight their own boss than take a chance on disrupting the system that provided their jobs. They were angry and determined and they weren't going to back down without a fight.

They got it. Pushing and shoving quickly got more violent and in a minute the sound of gunfire began to shock people who heard it, people who had nothing to do with the two groups but just happened to be congregating in the Main Atrium. But after hearing the gunfire those onlookers, concerned about their own safety and just looking to get out of the way, quickly left the area via the elevators and from that point on there were no other witnesses.

From the hallway someone shouted, "Get down!" And there was the boom boom boom of somebody's Sig Sauer. "Get out of the way!" somebody yelled, and from another worker, "On your right!"

It became a pitched battle, with both groups taking cover and taking pot-shots from any angle they could manage. The shooting got heavy, there was a steady stream of empty clips and the clink of brass falling on the marble floor. Men shouting, "Look out!" and the zing zing ... zinging sound of ricocheting bullets. At least two of the mining workers went down. Che got behind an information kiosk for cover, kneeling behind it as a barricade. He got up to fire a round and hit one of the mining workers in the leg, then felt a shot graze the cap on his own head; the bullet fractured the wall above his head and scattered fragments of the wall into the air. Both sides kept it up and pretty soon clouds of acrid gun smoke filled the ground floor hallway.

The Chief had been holding back, sizing up the situation, waiting for the right moment. Then he suddenly stood up, unprotected, revealing an Uzi and opening fire: brbrbrbrrrratttt ... brbrbrrrrratttt ... two medium blasts strewing shots over their heads and that was it. The Chief strode forward, moving deliberately and confidently or as if he were invulnerable, while the mining worker group began retreating, scattering down the hallway towards the G-Tower, back into the Main Atrium. The Chief's men followed, gaining confidence. They continued firing at anything that moved, walking over the bodies of several fallen mining workers and confiscating their weapons as they moved on. The retreating workers reached the Main Atrium, scattering further and soon disappearing down the stairwells into the lower levels beneath the G-Tower.

Neither Deputy Sparks in the HQ nor the marshal, Carter or Daniel upstairs working on interviews ever heard a thing: the U-Tower and most adjoining ground-level areas were sound-proofed to block out the monotonous noise of the mining operation machinery. That all boded well for the Chief who, with his sweaty, adrenaline-pumped gang following close behind, led the way up to the Gateroom in the G-Tower.

Neltone, the Gateroom Operator, knew nothing about what had happened and admitted his boss into the Gateroom. Once the Chief was in, he admitted the members of his gang. It had been a lightning strike, a blitzkrieg, a coup d'état. The Chief was in the Gateroom before the marshal or SG-1 ever knew a shot had been fired.

Finally, somebody called in a report about hearing gunshots coming from the U-Tower side. When the marshal, Sam, Daniel and Deputy Green reached the ground floor, they found a scene of carnage in the hallway. Two mining workers dead, three others down, unconscious but breathing. Everything shot up, shards of broken glass on the floor, blood and brass from the bullets everywhere.

Marshal Griggs called Dr. Frasier immediately. "Dr. Frasier, there's been a pretty vicious gun battle down here on the U-Tower ground floor. Two mining workers were killed and there's three others, unconscious." She told him, "You'll have to get them up here, I've got two seriously wounded workers here at the clinic too. They made it here on their own, though just barely."

While Sam began helping carry the wounded up to the G-Tower's 2nd floor clinic, the others moved towards the Main Atrium, finding it completely deserted. Then Deputy Sparks was calling for Griggs on the radio: "Marshal, we have two injured workers here at the office who know what happened, and Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c are outside, just pulling in."

As they gathered at the marshal's H.Q., Jack told the marshal about the Edorans and their missing bodies. Jack told him, "We sent the Edoran farm boys home with just some bumps and bruises, is all, but we don't know much else about the bodies, about who or why."

But they all felt preoccupied with what had just happened here, with the shoot-out at the U-Tower's ground floor. The workers told their story, saying the Manager-in-Chief planned to take over the Gateroom. "He's got supporters - he calls them his _legitimistas_ - which is Spanish for _loyalists_."

O'Neill: "Do you know what his goal is, ultimately?"

Worker: "No."

O'Neill: "How many men did he have with him?"

Worker: "Well, there were only about seven or eight with him that we saw. But we're pretty sure there are at least two, maybe three dozen hard-core Chief supporters."

O'Neill: "How much support do _we_ have? How many would actually _fight_ with us?"

Worker: "Some. But none that I know of that have guns."

The marshal looked at Deputy Green, and asked, "Green, you told me you'd seen a lot of workers carrying guns lately, didn't you?"

Green shrugged. The worker answered for Green, "Almost all the workers you'd see carrying guns around the grounds were Chief loyalists."

Deputy Sparks spoke up: "Marshal. Take a look at this." She had the monitor zeroed in on the G-tower's 11th floor.

The marshal, looking at the monitors, said, "The elevator lobby's covered, freight elevator too. They've got the Gateroom barricaded with men." The marshal had the deputy keep monitors on the Atrium stairwell entrances and called the building engineer to lock-off and hold the elevator cars there at the ground floor. He himself electronically closed off the entrances to the lower levels from outside.

Meanwhile, Daniel had been trying to process the worker's story about the Gateroom but still wasn't sure what to make of it. He said, "Jack, you remember I'd been going through file pictures, trying to see if there was anyone I might recognize?"

Jack asked, "You mean that whole _hunch_ thing we were talking about?"

Daniel: "Yeah, the hunch thing. The man I ended-up focusing on was the Chief - Arturo Zalonis. The file shows he's a Greek national. The thing is, if I really have recognized him and he's the person I used to know ... his name isn't Arturo Zalonis, and he isn't Greek. He's an American by the name of Clemmens Crawford."

Jack asked, "Well, if that's true - what does that _mean_?"

Daniel answered, "I don't know what it means. Assuming it really _is_ him, it's been ... fifteen years since I knew him. I really have no idea what he's morphed into after all these years."

All this time, the deputy had monitors on the Atrium and other points of potential access, watching for any activity. It seemed all quiet at present. Looking on, Marshal Griggs said, as if he were just thinking aloud, "We haven't seen any others coming through besides those that came with him ..."

Then, realizing he should have thought of it earlier, he said, "We don't have a camera up on the 4th floor cross-over. Let me go up and see if there's anybody moving through there." There was no provision for keeping workers who were already inside the mining complex from going from one tower to the other, via the cross-over.

He told O'Neill, "I'm sending Green to the Atrium to keep an eye on traffic into the G-Tower. Who wants to come with me?"

Everyone put up their hand to volunteer. The marshal said, "Colonel, if this is agreeable to you, I'd like you to come with me and have Dr. Jackson go out and help Major Carter transport the wounded. Maybe keep Teal'c here as back-up, just in case something else comes up?" O'Neill agreed and got ready to go, as Daniel went to join Sam.

At the Atrium, the marshal turned-on one G-Tower elevator car, they got on and went up. When the elevator opened at the 4th floor elevator lobby and they began to get off, they saw more than a dozen men moving through, all armed - at least two with sub-machine guns, another with a shot gun. Immediately, the "loyalists" began shooting. The marshal started to return fire, but the Colonel quickly pulled the marshal back into the elevator for cover and hit the Lobby button. They were heavily outnumbered and would have been sitting ducks in that lobby.

Back at the HQ, O'Neill told Teal'c and Deputy Sparks, "Too late, the Chief's men were already streaming through. We were lucky just to get out of there."

They went to work on strategy. While the marshal worked on what he would say to the Council Representatives about the Stargate, Jack and Sparks looked through as many camera angles as possible, trying to size-up their situation. While they searched, Jack found out some of the deputy's background. Sparks, an African-American like Marshal Griggs and Deputy Green, was from the East Coast, same as Deputy Green. She told Jack: "Here's a funny coincidence: Green and I worked together in the States**,** before meeting up again here on Edora. Can you believe that?"

Jack said, "Yeah, I have to admit, that's like, one in a million."

"Yeah, Colonel, me and Green go way back."

They kept the monitors moving, still trying to decide on a strategy. Jack asked the marshal, "Let me see if I've got this right: they can't operate the Stargate without us, right?

The marshal answered, "Right, or open the iris either, but neither can we."

He explained that the Gateroom Operator, always an Edoran, controlled the Stargate and iris but only in conjunction with the HQ. He said, "The Gateroom has an activation key, we have an activation key; unless both keys are turned the power circuit remains open and incomplete and the Stargate's non-operational."

He saw dark faces all around, a realization of their predicament hitting them. The marshal said, "It was partly a fail-safe, partly a bump-up in status for the Edorans. They wanted more prominence and some real control, the Representatives wanted their signatures on the treaty. The issue was a compromise, set in place by the General Agreement."

Everybody reacted with stony silence, except Jack who was muttering to himself.

Teal'c asked, "O'Neill, if the Chief and his loyalists were able to operate the Stargate, where would they go?"

O'Neill: "You got me, Teal'c. I don't understand any of this."

Teal'c: "Perhaps Daniel Jackson can provide some insight into the Chief's motivations?"

There was a knock - it was aCouncil Representative at the door, asking about the food supply. This time, the issue of food was no laughing matter. At first, people were simply hesitant to eat the food because they'd heard rumors the food was tainted, believing SG-1 got sick from eating the bouillabaisse. Whether that was actually true was never proven. But then the food that was left began disappearing very quickly, no one knew where it went or why, until now, at this point, the food supply was completely gone. There was nothing left.

The Representative said, "We've heard a rumor that the weekly food shipment has been delayed. Is that true?"

The marshal answered, "Yes, there's been a delay in this afternoon's food shipment."

"Well, when will it be coming?"

"We'll be holding a meeting this afternoon to explain the situation, and then we'll try to answer your questions."

The Representative clearly wasn't happy. "Can't you tell me something now? This is outrageous! I demand an answer!"

The marshal: "I've been making arrangements for a meeting with all the Representatives, as we speak." He'd been looking at the numbers, trying to calculate how many of the general population could realistically be accommodated in the Main Atrium, and whether another meeting would be required to accommodate everyone else. He was sure that, for a lot of people, what he'd tell them would come as a shock. Because he intended to bite the bullet and tell 'em the truth, which was that this was no mere food shipment delay. The Stargate was being held hostage.

He said, "We'll notify everyone within the hour," as he led the Representative out the door, trying his best to reassure him, all the while knowing things were probably going to get worse before they got better.

After the Representative left, O'Neill asked, "As long as the Gate stays closed, we don't eat, but neither does that gang in the Gateroom, right?"

The marshal answered doubtfully, "Well, yeah ... I guess."

Deputy Sparks spoke up, "On the cameras, I've seen them carrying boxes on their way through the G-Tower."

The marshal: "Could have been food."

Deputy Sparks: "Or ammo?"

The marshal: "Or both. Could have been stockpiling."

They all looked at each other, wondering and hoping that was not the case.

O'Neill: "What about the Edorans? Do you think they'd help us out with food?"

Teal'c: "O'Neill, the Edorans follow a subsistence way of life. They have little to spare."

The marshal: "And you realize, Colonel, we're talking about five thousand people here."

o0o

All this time the conveyor belt continued to run, sending naquadah ore to the Gateroom. They would need a General Agreement Special Provision to bring the belt to a halt; to keep that belt running was the whole reason the mining complex existed, as far as the powers- that-be were concerned.

But none of the legitimistas cared about naquadah or making money from naquadah. The Chief had hand-picked these three dozen men who, in his estimation, had the natural disposition and the character, integrity and potential required for the Cause. They were ordinary men but had the potential to ascend, he believed, when the circumstances were right. He considered them to be "men with spirit."

The Chief told his men, "We'll be leaving for a new planet, a new home. The planet we're going to will give us a new start, a chance to build our own world, to control our own fate. You can't ask for anything more. No one can."

He looked them over, looking directly into their eyes. He told them, "You've worked like slaves, you've paid your dues, you've risked your lives for a chance to live like free men, men with spirit."

Planning for unforeseen circumstances, the Chief had looked ahead when it came to food supplies; the legitimistas who came through the cross-over carried enough boxes of dried and canned food supplies and bottled water to last six months, maybe more. Neither was any other amenity forgotten nor any variety of ammo, either.

The Chief knew Colonel O'Neill had long experience and knew the Colonel's reputation for success in the field. He realized that, on some level, he must not underestimate him as a military mind and as an effective man of action. But the Chief, comparing himself with Colonel O'Neill, believed the difference between them as strategists was a question of O'Neill's short-term logistics vs. his own long-term positioning. The Chief felt he had foreseen every possibility and planned accordingly. He would avoid capture, but if it came to that, being captured, there was a plan to resolve that too. There was a Plan A, a Plan B, and a dozen more behind that, all ready to go if necessary, all foreseen as possibilities. By comparison, he thought, O'Neill was half-asleep, living in the dreamlands of mirage.

o0o

Jack was holding a strategy session with himself. Even if workers joined them, neither the marshal nor SG-1 had any weapons besides what they'd brought with them. If the Chief had ... two, three dozen men - not just loyal but willing to put their lives on the line for him, then SG-1 and the marshal were going to be heavily out-manned and out-gunned. Jack thought, even simple containment of the loyalists would at least have been **, **if the Chief was in contact with more loyalists in the U-Tower, that would mean SG-1 would have to guard against any rear-guard action from that side. What a damned hell of a situation.

Checking every elevator lobby one by one, Deputy Sparks found every lobby in the G-Tower well-manned by loyalists. Whether SG-1 could gain access via the stairwells was less apparent, because it was easier to stay out of camera range.

O'Neill asked her, "So, what about the stairwells?"

The deputy changed cameras and said, "Hard to say about the stairwells. There's one man showing up on each floor but can't be sure, there might be more standing just out of sight."

Jack decided on a course of action. He and Teal'c would explore the stairwells, looking for the soft underbelly, the inevitable weak spot. There had to be one. He felt better. He was finally getting into action.

Jack and Teal'c went up the north stairwell to the 2nd floor, meeting no resistance, stopping at the medical office to check on Dr. Frasier, Sam and Daniel. Janet said, "I'm managing alright under the circumstances, but Sam and Daniel are getting antsy to help you with the Gateroom situation."

Jack said, "I'd rather have you two help the marshal at the Atrium. That meeting's gonna be huge, not to mention important."

Sam said, "Sir, maybe we can try to feel that crowd out - get a read on how they feel about us - try to recruit some pro-active support, in case we need it if things get rough."

The Colonel agreed and gave them the green light. Daniel said, "I need to see Arturo Zalonis on camera, to know what I need to know. Have we even actually _seen_ the Chief on camera yet?"

Jack answered, "Not yet. If he's purposely staying out of sight, we'll just have to wait."

Sam and Daniel headed downstairs, while Jack and Teal'c proceeded back into the stairwell on their way up to the 3rd floor. Passing the 3rd floor they again met no resistance and moved up through the stairwell towards the 4th floor. They could see one man standing look-out outside the 4th floor stairwell door, gun in hand, sitting on a stool. He looked half asleep and they surprised the hell out of him. When he saw them and raised and aimed his gun at them, Jack shot him dead.

They might have just stepped over the man's body and kept on going but then, they saw his gun lying there, they looked at each other, and both men realized they needed any weapon they could get. Reaching down for the pistol, Jack said, "It's a Makarov 9mm. Russian make. Told you, Teal'c."

"O'Neill, the Russians may have sold them for the money, with no prior knowledge of the loyalists' intentions."

"Well, T., you just keep believin' that, if you want to. Tell you what - how much you wanna bet on it?"

"You have never yet induced me to bet on anything, O'Neill. I do not intend to begin today."

At the 5th floor, still no resistance. They took a quick look inside the floor. It contained the gym, a beauty salon, a nightclub, several retail stores, a coffee shop, and the bowling alley. Ordinary workers and management people were there, going about as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Jack and Teal'c again proceeded up towards the 6th floor. They heard voices, men talking above on the 6th floor. They planned to creep up on them with as much stealth as possible until they were seen, and then come up blasting as they rushed them, hoping the element of surprise would carry them through.

Turning the bend in the stairwell they saw three men. These men were prepared and waiting and Jack, Teal'c and the loyalists all started blasting away simultaneously, two of the loyalists going down while one dragged himself inside the 6th floor stairwell door. Jack and Teal'c continued up but five or six more loyalists jumped out, blasting wildly and sporadically at first and then unleashing a vicious rain of firepower. The sound of semi-automatic handguns and sub-machine guns on both sides was loud in the stairwell, topped off with the ping ... zing ... zinging of bullets ricocheting. Jack yelled, "Pull back, Teal'c, pull back!" as they were forced to retreat down the way they'd come, clinging to the wall and pulling back behind the bend in the stairwell.

Long, drawn-out bursts followed them as they retreated and Jack swore and muttered, "I'm hit!" He'd caught a bullet in the left arm and was bleeding. Teal'c was limping - a bullet grazed him in the foot. They stood below the bend in the stairwell, in relative safety, breathing hard, looking up the stairwell. The loyalists were not following them down, holding firm in their positions in the landing at the 6th floor stairwell. The loyalists had command of their position but seemed reluctant to push their luck.

A few minutes later Jack and Teal'c tried again, inching up step by step, but once past a certain point they met too much firepower to advance, and again retreated to the 5th floor landing. Fifteen minutes later, a loyalist tried inching down until he caught sight of SG-1. Teal'c hadn't brought his staff weaponbut managed to get off a blast from his P90 that hit the loyalist in the neck, who landed with a thud and fell part-way down the stairwell. Blood spurted and began dripping down the stairwell, one step after another. But any attempts Jack and Teal'c made to move up past the bend in the stairwell were met by vicious and continuous gunfire blasts raining in their direction. They couldn't move up.

Eventually, they could see more loyalists had massed at the 4th floor, meaning Teal'c and the Colonel were trapped at the 5th floor. Couldn't go up, couldn't go down. At least, these 4th floor loyalists also were content to hold their positions rather than pursue SG-1.

Some time passed. Nobody tried to move up or down. It was hot and smokey from the shooting inside the stairwell and they stood there, wiping the sweat from their foreheads. Looking for some bandaging for Jack's arm and to see what they could do for Teal'c's foot, they went inside the 5th floor.

o0o

In the HQ, Marshal Griggs received a written message from some Council Representatives in the U-Tower, again reporting the smell of gas. Nothing they could pin down, as usual. He sent McKeller and Deputy Green to try one more time to track it down and told Green, "Stay up there with them for a while if necessary, but see if you can get 'em down to the Atrium. Tell 'em anything, I don't care what."

With the report of gas in hand and a sense of foreboding in his gut, Griggs knew he had more than one reason to get people out of the U-Tower and down to a meeting at the Atrium. He asked Sam to use the PA system to bring people down for a meeting.

People in the mining complex tended to ignore anything on the PA system, but he hoped Major Carter's reputation would carry some authority. She announced, "This is Major Samantha Carter of SG-1. There will be a meeting in the Main Atrium at 1700 hours. Everyone who's able to attend should attend. The Gateroom situation and the recent reports of the smell of gas will be addressed."

Daniel whispered, "Don't forget to mention the food situation."

Sam realized it was true, that would bring them down. She mentioned the delayed food shipment over the PA and made her sign-off: "Considering recent events, we may have a dangerous situation on our hands. Please come to the meeting."

They wanted everyone to come: workers, Representatives, VIP's, everyone. But the Representatives were reluctant to leave - only about half of them agreed to leave immediately. The others, especially some of the VIP's, seemed to think this was a bargaining tool and said they'd leave as soon as their food and special dietary requirements were fulfilled.

Griggs thought to himself, Those damned VIP's! They bugged the hell out of him. And he didn't trust them either; he'd begun to believe some of them were as crooked as UEC. He left the HQ and while walking out to the Main Atrium thoughts of Los Angeles floated through his mind. Thoughts of the serene weather there, thoughts of how predictable the dangers of police work on the streets of Compton and South Central Los Angeles were compared to what he had on his hands here. Compton, Jefferson Park, Crenshaw, Baldwin Hills, Watts, all now seemed like serene fields with amber waves of grain compared to what he might have on his hands here on Edora. Thoughts of his wife floated in too. Next time he communicated with his wife and told her about today's events, he wondered if she'd say all this was "a little more than the usual chaos?"

By about 1700 hours, Sam, Daniel, and the marshal were out at the Main Atrium where about three thousand people had assembled. Marshal Griggs stepped to the podium. He spoke into the microphone:

"Council Representatives, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I know you have concerns about the Gateroom and the food shipment, but I'll go directly to the point here so you can know where we stand. The Manager-in-Chief for UEC, along with two or three dozen of his supporters, have taken-over the Gateroom. They've barricaded the elevator lobbies with armed men, and pretty much control the G-Tower. Members of SG-1 are working on the situation as we speak. We've tried to talk to these loyalists, these _legitimistas_, as they call themselves, by radio, land-line intercom and through the PA system, but so far we've had no response from them whatsoever."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to connect with the huge group. But he hesitated, not sure what reaction the next subject would get. He continued, "Another issue: there's been more than one report of the smell of gas in the U-Tower. So far, we've been unable to determine the source of the smell."

The marshal stopped for a few seconds, to let the gravity of theover-all situation sink in. A Representative threw up his hand. The marshal asked, hopefully, "Yes, what is your question, sir?"

The Representative asked, "Where and when can we get food?"

At the moment, that was the only thing most anyone could think about.

o0o

Unable to progress up the stairwell or retreat back down, Jack and Teal'c had gone inside the 5th floor, looking for bandaging for their injuries. Inside, O'Neill pulled out his radio and tried to transmit, but it was battered in the shootout and wouldn't produce a signal. Jack asked Teal'c, "Any luck with yours?" Teal'c tried and found his also knocked-out. "No luck, O'Neill."

Walking through the 5th floor was almost surreal: the gym was empty but people were sitting in the coffee shop, glued to their laptops, others were bowling in the bowling alley, or drinking at the bar, as if nothing had ever happened. The floor was smokey with cigarette smoke and reeked of the beer flowing at the bar. To these people, it was as if whatever happened in the Gateroom was not _their_ affair - there was nothing _they_ could do, it was somebody else's concern. A woman in the beauty shop was getting her hair done. They heard her talking about her recent vacation on Earth - her travels to an all-inclusive resort, all the shopping she did on the island, her husband playing golf and tennis at the resort.

For Teal'c and Jack, hearing Sam's voice over the PA system was somehow reassuring, but the people on the 5th floor seemed to completely ignore the message. The announcement she'd given, and it was repeated several times, was intended for everyone in both towers. But people here simply didn't seem to care; if everything went up in smoke, if the situation went downhill and everything went to pieces, they wanted to go down drinking or smoking or bowling.

They went further in. Wounded and limping they walked past the bowling alley, watching for a few seconds as people kept track of their strikes and spares. O'Neill asked, "Ever go bowling, Teal'c?"

"No, but it appears to be an amusing and enjoyable physical activity."

"Yeah, you should try it sometime."

"When we arrive back on Earth, O'Neill, I would appreciate your guidance concerning the techniques of bowling."

"You got it, T."

They stopped at the entrance to the nightclub - it was bustling with an early happy hour. People there ignored the members of SG-1, too busy drinking their drinks, talking, laughing, playing cards, slamming down dice on the bar. Jack and Teal'c saw two men from the filmcrew sitting at the bar. Like everyone else, the men seemed more interested in their drinks than anything else.

The bar had no TV, but there was music, playing on an old-fashioned, coin-operated jukebox. In the back, Jack saw what appeared to be a private party. No, he thought, as he looked again, they were drunk, loud and losing control. Everyone here was oblivious to what had happened. Jack asked, "Teal'c, have you ever seen a TV series called _The Twilight Zone_?"

"I have not, O'Neill. Do you recommend that I see it?"

"No, Teal'c, you're seeing it here, right now."

Jack and Teal'c overheard a conversation, it was five men sitting at a booth inside the bar. One of them said, "Governments and companies keep bidding prices higher. This planet is going to get rich and fat riding the price of naquadah, 'cause it just keeps going higher. Things are going to explode, let me tell you."

Teal'c said, "They seem unaware of any of the recent events, O'Neill."

O'Neill nodded and said, "Yeah, I know, it's scary, isn't it?"

Walking away from the bar towards a window, Jack and Teal'c stopped for a few seconds, looking out in the direction of the U-Tower. A meteor flash caught their attention; the fire rain would be ending soon. They moved on to another window, a triple-sized window within an enclosed observation deck. They'd just reached that window when they saw another bright flash, from somewhere ... within or below the base of the U-Tower, and then the very loud sound of an explosion. They stood there looking out, trying to see what it was. They heard rumbling sounds and felt the ground shaking ... and realized it was the U-Tower. Could this really be happening? The U-Tower was going down!

Incredible! Unbelievable! Smoke everywhere. They were in a state of shock and awe at the awful spectacle they were seeing: the U-Tower was imploding, crashing and tumbling down to the ground before their eyes. The rumbling and shaking was intense, it felt like an earthquake. Mere seconds after hearing the explosion - it was gone.

At that minute, it was as if everything came to a standstill. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

At the Atrium, the large crowd gathered there stood frozen to the spot, looking out in the direction of where the U-Tower used to be, staring darkly without comprehension. A thick dust fell and a smog of sooty particles spread out everywhere. When the dust settled there were a great many deceased. It would later be determined that forty-three Council Representatives were missing, assumed dead. Over five hundred workers from above-ground floors were missing; luckily, some two thousand workers who were actually working the mines below ground level survived.

Deputy Green was among the missing, presumed dead.

"I'm going over there," the marshal told Sam and Daniel. "Keep these people here if at all possible." He left and Sam took the podium. Before she could say a word into the microphone, one of the VIP Representatives started in again: "That's it then!" he said excitedly, "Give them want they want!"

Carter answered back firmly, "At this point, we don't even _know_ what they want!"

"Well then, it doesn't matter, just get talks startedimmediately!" the Representative demanded.

"So far, they're not talking, no matter what we try," Carter told him. And then it went 'round and 'round.

The marshal, on his way out to the site, was issuing orders by radio to worker foremen, putting the rescue effort in motion. McKeller walked with the marshal on his way out there and told the marshal, "With all the out-of-the-way places I go into ... I don't want to be walking around here unarmed. Can you get me a gun?"

Marshal Griggs asked, "Can you shoot?"

"Of course I can shoot!"

"Semi-automatic?"

McKeller nodded yes and said, "I've been shootin' all my life."

The marshal, going off in another direction, told him, "Go in, ask Sparks. Tell her I said it was O.K."

McKeller went into the HQ. For Deputy Sparks, Green had been not only a co-worker but also a friend. She was really feeling the loss. She told McKeller, "Deputy Green kept another Glock 17 in his locker. He won't be needing it now. I'll get it for you."

o0o

The scientific film crew so far hadn't got any footage of the fire rain nor had they got any footage of the U-Tower going down, nor of the smoke surrounding the site. They didn't plan to go film the collapsed remains. They seemed preoccupied with trying to get autographs from Dr. Jackson and Major Carter.

In the Atrium, film crew boss Barry Krzyzewski walked towards Daniel and Sam, calling out, "Dr. Jackson, Major Carter, can I get your autographs?" Getting closer to the podium he tripped and knocked hard into Daniel; they both fell down to the floor, Daniel's eyeglasses breaking in the process. Sam helped the man up and off Daniel, whereupon the man was so grateful he said, "What an honor to meet you, Major Carter!" He hugged Sam warmly, with a grip that left Sam gasping for breath. Krzyzewski smiled and asked again, "I'm a tremendous fan of both of you. Can I get your autographs?"

It was ridiculously inappropriate, considering the U-Tower destruction. Sam yelled at them, "Not now!" and waved them off with a scowl. The men gave up and left them there.

No one on Edora, including the Chief, knew that the film crew answered directly to Adrian Conrad. Krzyzewski had a long relationship with Conrad. Krzyzewski had done all sorts of "special ops" for him, all involving investigations of a highly clandestine nature, often illegal, and _occasionally_ involving cases where actual photography was required.

"Slow down that investigation by whatever means necessary," Conrad had told him. In the Atrium, every one of the film crew team had a compact gun hidden somewhere on their person. But they were surrounded by thousands of people and besides, they had a plan that would probably be more effective than using guns. The plan was already in operation; it began when Krzyzewski pretended to slip and fall hard into Dr. Daniel Jackson.

o0o

After the explosion, Jack and Teal'c stood there motionless, looking at the smoldering ruin, emotional shock waves reverberating through both of them. Jack wondered, how many people were in there, dozens, hundreds, thousands? For all he knew, Sam might have been in there, or Daniel. He shuddered at the thought. But whoever was in there, it was all bad.

At the time they'd stopped and witnessed the explosion, they'd been on their way to check the stairwell at the opposite side of the floor from where they'd entered. Proceeding that way now, they found it odd to find the two film crew members they'd seen earlier sitting at the bar now coming from the direction of that stairwell. The two groups of two passed each other, just nodding and continuing on.

When Jack and Teal'c reached the stairwell door on the opposite side from where they'd entered, they found it locked, against the code. Their first reaction was to glance back at the men who'd just left that area - but they'd disappeared and there was no use speculating. The exit door was an extra-heavy-duty door with an electronic locking system, built to be impervious; Jack and Teal'c thought it would be useless shooting bullets at the lock, no use wasting ammo.

"Teal'c, if only we had some C4."

"Indeed. But we do not."

They didn't bring any, mainly because Edora was considered a known quantity - they didn't expect any visits from the Goa'uld. Jack thought, yes, their trip here was assigned as an "investigation," but he originally thought it would really end-up being more of a diplomatic mission. Before they set out his attitude was,So, a few people committed suicide, so what? If people were depressed about working here, maybe they'd made a suicide pact? Could happen, right? But that way of thinking didn't last long once he got to Edora.

Anyway, Jack thought, should have brought the C4. With the south stairwell exit door locked, they walked back toward the stairwell where they'd come in. Jack asked, "Teal'c, got any ideas?"

"I would suggest another attempt at the stairwell. Perhaps the U-Tower explosion has distracted the loyalists." O'Neill agreed and they went back out there.

They left the 5th floor and again started up the north stairwell, this time meeting no resistance at the 6th floor nor at the 7th. O'Neill said, "You were right, Teal'c, they're having a major lapse here, unless this is some new kind of strategy."

They made a big rush to the top. Still no loyalists at the 8th floor. They kept going, practically running up the stairs, two at a time, three at at a time ... reaching the 9th floor safely, and then heard voices up above, coming from the 10th floor. As soon as they rounded the bend SG-1 and the loyalists faced each other again and this time all hell broke loose. The barrage of firepower was even more fierce than before - if that were somehow possible. The loyalists seemed to have even more firepower than before: there was the sound of an Uzi, and the distinctive loading action and blast of a shotgun was heard as it ripped into the stairwell wall, luckily just above their heads.

Again they were forced to retreat, holding at the 9th floor while the loyalists held out at the 10th floor. Once again a group of loyalists re-grouped and massed down below at the 8th floor, trapping Jack and Teal'c in the stairwell. With the vicious firepower coming at them, they could hardly poke the tip of a gun past the bend in the stairwell. They tried the door to enter the 9th floor but found it locked. Perhaps the loyalists had planned this, locked the door and lured them up there?

The loyalists were out-gunning them. O'Neill, like every other member of SG-1, had a P90 with him and a Beretta in his holster. Even Teal'c, who every so often lately had been leaving his staff weapon back on Earth, was carrying a P90 and a Beretta. The Belgian-made FN P90 sub-machine guns could really kick it up if they needed it, firing at a rate of 900 rounds per minute with top-loading magazines carrying 50-round clips. But once Jack and Teal'c got trapped in the stairwell the problem came down to ammo. Each man had two extra clips for their P90's when they started and two extra clips for their Berettas. The loyalists, on the other hand, seemed to have a virtually limitless supply of ammo.

Eventually Jack and Teal'c were down to their Berettas, each with one extra clip left and that would be it. They'd already been keeping in mind to conserve what ammo they could but now they were really up against it. The result was a war of attrition, a feint here, darting in and out there, but this time they knew they were really pinned down, stuck, completely immobile. O'Neill said, "Forget about the C4, I wish I had a goddamn flamethrower! Get rid of these insects." Mostly out of frustration, they tried the door again. No luck. Jack thought, looks like we're gonna stay pinned down for a while. This time there seemed to be no way up or down, no way in and no way out.

o0o

Some solitary individuals and a few groups of men who didn't accept the invitation to the meeting in the Atrium roamed the lower levels of the G-tower and central ground level, checking the vending machines, scavenging, essentially on a quest to find any kind of food items that might be out there. Outside the Engineer's Office, McKeller ran into a group of five African men from the U.S., originally from Ghana, Sierra Leone and Liberia. It so happened he knew them all; in fact, he felt friendly with them. The first question they asked him was, "Have you got any food?"

McKeller said, "I've got a few things stashed. Come with me."

Inside the Engineer's Office, they sat down on benches, talking about the situation while he prepared something for them. He said, "I have 6 Slim Jims, 2 bags of peanuts, 1 small bag of popcorn and 1 package of Cheezits. Oh yeah, and there's lots of coffee."

But he said he was rationing the supplies, dividing it out for them on paper plates. Each plate had 1/2 Slim Jim, 10 peanuts, six pieces of popcorn, and 5 Cheezit crackers. One of the African men asked, "What are you saving the rest for?" McKeller said, "For dinner tonight." And then he added, "But listen, you're welcome to all the coffee you can drink." One of the Africans asked, "Have you got any creamer?" McKeller answered, "Yep, we got lots of creamer."

They chewed everything very slowly, along with cups of coffee filled with substantial quantities of sugar and creamer. McKeller liked these men, he felt as if some of his favorite workers were the Africans. He became friends with some of them, came to believe he had a lot in common with them and liked to imagine that on some level he was one of the "brothers" himself. One of the men, known by the workers as "Eric," was one of McKeller's favorites. Originally from Ghana, Eric's native name was Shogolokobangoshi, and they'd spent hours drinking coffee and talking in the Engineer's Office. Eric once told him, "When I was a teenager I was known as a tough guy and President Kwame Nkrumah's communists recruited me to join their gang of strong-men. If a bout with malaria had not held me back from a trip to Cuba, I don't know where I'd be now. Probably dead. Something changed while I was lying in that hospital; after that, I left that life behind and enrolled in university to study engineering."

They were sitting there, having their snack, talking and watching the conveyor belt go by. One of the men, from Sierra Leone, asked McKeller, "So, the Chief's got his grip on the Gateroom, has he?"

McKeller nodded yes.

"Any progress?"

"They're working on it."

"Who, SG-1?"

"Yep, SG-1. There's no way in, though."

They sat there, watching the mining complex conveyor belt go by, which began at the mining levels underground where the U-Tower had stood, passing through the Engineer's Office and underneath the Atrium and G-Tower, then snaking its way in a corkscrew movement around and up to the top of the G-Tower, where the Stargate stood on the 11th floor. The belt had regularly spaced partitions to keep the crates of naquadah ore in place as they moved upward through the G-Tower. Crates were still moving on the belt, probably placed there by the automatic loading machine from a previously, fully-loaded dock, and might still continue for several hours. They were quiet, everyone there seemed lost in thought with the clink, clank sound of the belt in the background until somehow, something clicked for all of them at once, they all looked around at each other as if the idea flashed in each and every man's mind simultaneously and McKeller practically yelled, "The conveyor belt!"

They all knew exactly what he was thinking and yelled, "Yeah, that's it! The belt!"

McKeller said, "It's the only way in there."

They all knew there was only one way into the Gateroom now, and they saw no reason it shouldn't work. In a flash, they were up and on their way to the HQ, where they found Sam and Daniel. McKeller explained the general idea, "Someone could ride that belt from down here all the way up to the 11th floor. We could surprise 'em!"

Major Carter understood conveyor systems and from the beginning was on board with the idea, immediately working on a plan. She wanted to go alone but two of the Africans, who had their own guns, vehemently insisted that they should go too with Sam on the belt.

Sam was opposed to letting them go, said it might not work because it'd be too much weight, told them, "Our conveyor is a modified vertical spiral system with automatic chain tensioning and probably has no built-in overload protection. And the belt's kind of _stiff_, seems like the belt itself is a copolymer of styrene and butadiene rubber." She went on, talking about different types of belt designs and conveyors, such as screw conveyors, vibrating conveyors, pneumatic conveyors, roller conveyor systems, moving floor systems, snake sandwich conveyors, and the varieties of pulley systems and materials used here on Edora. She told the men from Ghana, "The longest conveyor in the world is in Africa; Western Sahara's conveyor is somewhere around sixty miles, they use it for transporting phosphates to the coast. Our conveyor here, if you straighten it out, is about one and a half miles."

Sam went on, she may have gone off-track a bit directing some technical information towards McKeller, who may have had some vague understanding of what she meant when she talked about conveyor belts and pulley systems in terms of "breaking strength, abrasion resistance and tear resistance" and about "equations for elasticity, where the modulus of elasticity is calculated by dividing the stress by the strain" and about the "Eytelwein Equation for calculating minimum tensions for transmitting the pulley peripheral forces."

The Africans looked doubtful; all they knew was, they felt sure they should go. They tried pleading with Sam, almost begging her to let them go. But Sam said, "Look, the bottom line is it'll be too much weight. The belt-weigher could show too much weight and that'd be a give-away." What her eyes told her was that each and every one of the African men weighed a good two hundred pounds or more.

Sam said, "My main concern is, my weight including my gear has to match as closely as possible the weights that're gauged as normal on the belt. And I know I can do that." She intended to go alone, she thought that would be the only way it would work. She said, "Although not all shipment crates weigh the same, there's an _acceptable range_ which would be noticeable to anyone paying attention to the weight indicators in the Gateroom."

Sam and Daniel went out to see the marshal, who was fully engaged in the U-Tower rescue some discussion, it was decided that Daniel would remain at the marshal's HQ and, essentially, take charge. His eyeglasses were broken and furthermore, with the marshal preoccupied with the U-Tower aftermath and Sparks needed at the console, they had no one else to take charge. Daniel would stay and Sam would go. She would take a shot at riding the belt to the Gateroom, alone.

The regularly spaced partitions which kept the crates of naquadah ore in place, known as elevator belts, were just big enough to fit someone Sam's size, with some contortions on her part. They would have to remove a crate and as quickly as possible replace that crate with Sam. A lot of shifting always occurred on the belt, so any small temporary shifting movements wouldn't be seen as abnormal. She would get on at the Engineering Office, and after some calculations and hasty plans, she was ready to go. Sam got on.

The belt moved neither very fast nor very slow, it was about average as conveyor belts go, and Sam estimated it would take about two hours and twenty-five minutes to reach the Gateroom. Sam found the inside of the conveyor belt passageway dark and narrow. It reminded her of going through the "spook house" at an amusement park when she was a kid. At the amusement park near where Sam grew up, a train went through the completely dark spook house on an electric track, with all kinds of spooky things lighting-up and jumping out around every curve. She'd loved it, in those days she'd gone through a couple of dozen times in a couple of years.

She remembered one time, she must have been about eight years old, taking her cat with her when she went through the spook house. Her cat was a Pixie-Bob tabby, with tufts of white on all his paws so she called him "Mr. Boots." Her cat behaved pretty well that time, as long as she held him firmly in her arms. Mr. Boots was pretty brave, she'd always thought, when she was a kid.

On the conveyor belt, she pulled out a flashlight and could see the marker showing she was rounding the curve at the 2nd floor. It was going to feel like a long ride, and it didn't help that her stomach was making growling sounds, reminding her how awfully hungry she was. And the conveyor belt made her sleepy. Despite her efforts to stay alert, the monotonous whirring of the belt droned on, while in the background there was another sound, a quiet but repetitive clink, clank, clink, clank, which also droned on, as the belt ever so slowly crawled past floor after floor. The soft whirring and clink-clanking went on and on, almost lulling her to sleep.

She roused herself. She thought about Colonel O'Neill - for all she knew, he might have been shot, right now lying somewhere wounded. Teal'c too. They might not even be alive. She put those thoughts out of her mind. All kinds of other thoughts arose. She couldn't help wondering, does the Colonel plan to see that woman he met here - Laira? If he does, will he ever even mention it?

She knew about Laira, Teal'c talked about her. Sam's thoughts drifted and came around to the subject of children. She wanted children, at least one, someday. A son or a daughter, that wasn't important. But that seemed something far away in some distant future, when she was no longer with SG-1. When she was out of active service, probably when she was teaching physics somewhere, maybe at the Air Force Academy in Colorado?

Some time passed. The belt moved slowly, whirring softly, clink, clank, clink, clank in the background as Sam got drowsy again and began to drift off just a bit, the gentle swaying of the belt mechanism drifting and drifting and carrying her off ... further and further into a reverie, softly floating into a dream ...

She was riding on the conveyor belt with Mr. Boots. Her cat was purring or making a whirring sound, like the sound of the belt mechanism. Rounding a bend, she got a call on radio from General Hammond. She told Hammond: "At any particular point in space and time, the proximity to a Stargate is a function of one's conscious awareness of that same Stargate." General Hammond didn't answer, but she thought he must be nodding silently, in agreement. As she tried to sleep, Jack walked into her bedroom. Jack said, "The equation could work. It could work, if you let it." Then Cassie was standing there with Jack, and Sam asked, "Is she our daughter?"

But then, as she was nearing the Gateroom the Stargate moved, slipped, sliding off its base, over the edge, with Sam lunging for it, trying to go after it, grasping for it, but unable to hold it back. The dream ended there and she woke, quickly becoming aware she had almost slipped off the conveyor belt. The dream left her slightly disoriented, but she gradually pulled herself together.

Again she got her mission back in focus. More time passed, the belt winding slowly, slowly but surely upward. Eventually, with the flashlight, she could see the marker showing she was rounding the curve at the 6th floor. Again, she thought about how hungry she was, then realized she wasn't just hungry, she was ravenous. Sam revisited every sort of calculation about the weights on the belt, wondering if she really would make it to the Gateroom undetected. How much longer to the 11th floor? She looked at her watch. Then ... what was that? Yes, it was the sound of gunfire, coming muffled through the conveyor passageway walls. There it was ... the pop pop pop of semi-automatics and long drawn-out bursts from sub-machine guns. Where were Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c? Using a flashlight, she looked at the floor indicator on the wall - it was the 8th floor. She couldn't risk detection - her radio had to remain off for now, but she continued to hear gunfire for a long time after, continuing in spurts as the belt wound its way upward, on towards the 9th and 10th floors. She was concerned, on edge - did that gunfire involve Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c? She worried and she tried her best not to worry. She tried to focus on how she'd handle things when she got to the Gateroom. There was nothing she could do for now but wait, and wait, and as the belt slowly rounded another bend the recollection of the spook house again drifted through her memory, and Mr. Boots.

o0o

Meanwhile, Kryszewski was just wrapping-up a radio conversation with the Chief. Kryszewski said, "That's it, that's the plan," and signed-off. The film crew leader felt he'd accomplished quite a lot during his brief encounter in the Atrium with SG-1. Breaking Daniel Jackson's glasses might slow him down, but that was purely incidental, because their primary objective was so much more important: they were able to plant bugs - electronic listening devices, on both Dr. Jackson and Major Carter. Advance knowledge of all their plans was so much better than anything physical force could have produced. And now, Kryszewski had everything, the whole plan.

Soon after, Sam finally reached the 11th floor. When she got off, it would be in a storage room area in the rear of the Gateroom, where the conveyor off-loading area was housed. Already, through the heavy vinyl curtains covering the off-load platform, she could see one loyalist, sitting on a stool, standing guard over crates of naquadah and boxes of ammunition. She adjusted the silencer on her gun. She got ready.

Inside the Gateroom: Neltone, the Edoran Gateroom Operator who idolized the members of SG-1 as heroes, knew something very immediate was in progress because a group of loyalists was heading towards the off-load area in the rear. Then he heard shots, there were loud voices. What was happening? Was it SG-1? He finally decided he'd reached his limit, he wanted out from all of this. He'd made his decision and reached for an intercom button, planning to call the marshal's HQ.

Just then, Troyan, the lead Edoran Gateroom Operator, and two of the Chief's other loyalists fixed Neltone in their sights while they strode towards him. As far as they were concerned, no gutless lackey was going to prevent them from reaching the success they'd worked was too close; they believed the fulfillment of their dreams was just around the corner. 

7


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

There were two cameras on the Gateroom and two intercoms for speaking, but of course the Gateroom could not see the marshal's HQ. A man came on camera, who first looked through some pages of notes and then said, "My name is Che. To whom am I speaking?"

Daniel could tell the truth, which was that only he and Deputy Sparks were there in the marshal's HQ, or he could bend the truth a little, for whatever strategic benefit that might hold. He went for a middle course: "This is Dr. Daniel Jackson of SG-1, with Deputy Sparks. We expect Major Carter to join us very soon."

The loyalist who'd called himself 'Che' said, "Please wait for just a few minutes." A period of what seemed like fifteen to twenty minutes passed with no one on camera. Then the loyalist could be seen coming back on camera, holding two captives - the Edoran Gateroom Operator, Neltone, and Major Carter. Neltone was tied up, his hands behind his back. Sam was bound and gagged, her hands also tied behind her back. Looked like she'd been roughed-up too - her shirt was torn and she was badly bruised.

Daniel knew something like this could happen but it was still a shock. Sam asked to keep radio silence during the course of her Gateroom liberation attempt, and now ...

Che said, "Please wait, our Chief will be here soon." Che could be seen taking Carter away, handling her rather roughly. After a short wait the Chief finally came on camera.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson. How good it is to not be able to see you again. But if you like, you can come up and join your Major Carter here in the Gateroom. Would you like that? We'll catch up. You and I will have our own little reunion - it'll be just like old times, like being back on Selby Avenue, won't it?" Unbelievably, he seemed to be giggling and smirking and then began laughing with gusto as if he found something hilarious, laughing out loud and slapping his knee as if he were watching stand-up comedy in an auditorium and simply could not control himself. At some point, the Chief was actually doubled-over with laughter, tears in his eyes, he couldn't stop laughing. It was bizarre.

He's insane, Daniel thought, he's completely insane.

But there was a rational angle to the Chief's madness. Because, given their personal history, he knew how to irritate Jackson, provoke him, throw him off balance. He knew how to push Jackson's buttons. Furthermore, thanks to Adrian Conrad, he had access to files on every member of SG-1, including people from Daniel's past, and it could all be used at the right moment in time if the need arose, if the tactics of the situation called for it. Now the laughter was done, the Chief collected himself. It was time to present his demands.

"Jackson, I've got a proposition for you. You give me what I want and I'll let Major Carter go, myself and my legitimistas will leave the Gateroom and then all you good people can eat again. Deal?"

Daniel had a question: "Are you responsible for the U-Tower explosion?"

Clemm answered, "Denying it would be useless, I suppose, wouldn't it? Might as well tell the truth. Yes, of course, we take complete responsibility. But the U-Tower, that's all in the past now, isn't it? Might as well move on."

He had complete control of himself now, he peered into the camera. He went on with his demands: "Now, there are some specific, rather technical requirements that will be part of my demands, having to do with biochemical atmospheric factors, primordial isotopes ... some other considerations. I won't bore you with those details at this point but let me present the big picture: I want access to your Stargate Command data base pertaining to habitable planets, that is, the complete planetary profiles, and the guarantee of safe passage to the planet of our choice.

"I expect Major Carter, as long as she's been congenial enough to come up here and visit, to also lend her expertise to our project. Now that she's here, actually, I'm counting on it. If she's not receptive? Well, I have some amazingly effective drugs that will bring out the best in her. Something to loosen her up a bit, make her receptive without clouding her mental function. But I sincerely hope that won't be necessary."

Clemm looked determined and confident. He continued: "Whether you agree to my demands or not, Major Carter will fulfill her function. She'll assist us, I assure you, one way or another. The difference is this: if it's voluntary and you've agreed to my demands, she'll be released, unharmed. If you haven't agreed to my demands, then we've reached another fork in the road, and at that point, Jackson, you'll have choices to make.

"If you _don't_ agree, you have two choices: first, you can be a witness to Major Carter's strangulation, and should you choose to go this route, I promise to let you view the event live as it happens, on camera. If you prefer, your other option is to allow Major Carter to participate in a drug experiment that I'll administer for the Major's benefit. Objectively speaking, there's always some benefit to be gained from these experiments, I always learn something. But let me put it this way: I wouldn't want to trade places with Major Carter."

He stopped for a moment, gazing into the camera as if trying to fathom the minds of his listeners, then said, "I'm a man who believes in giving people choices." Again he paused, then continued, "Perhaps this is a good time to mention that some of my men have expressed a, let's say, _romantic_ interest in _Miss_ Carter, as they call her, though I've kept that sort of thing in check so far. In any case, the important thing, and I can't emphasize this too much, is that you do have choices, and the free will to exercise those choices. Give it some thought, Jackson. I'll get back to you."

Clemm disappeared off-camera. It hit Daniel full-force, seeing Sam there bound and gagged, seeing Clemm, after everything else that had transpired. After taking a minute to recover himself, Daniel called Dr. Frasier by radio. She answered and he told her, "It's him. The Chief is Clemm, and he has Sam."

Daniel went up to see Dr. Frasier. He began to explain the situation, starting with Sam's capture, but Janet's first thought was, how had they been so prepared for Sam on the belt? She put her finger up to her lips, asking for quiet. She whispered in his ear, "Let's check you for bugging devices. You'd better pull off that shirt."

He took off his shirt and shook it a couple of times and there it was, a small ceramic "bug" falling to the floor. They checked, but there was nothing else, so Daniel told her everything and gave her his take on the situation.

Daniel said, "Let's say we don't agree to his demands, at least at this point. Clemm won't have her strangled, I'm pretty sure of that, because Clemm's not one for physical violence if he can avoid it, it's just not his thing. It's too simple, too straightforward, he's always gotta add some kind of _angle_ to everything ... seems to me. Drugs are his specialty, but what kind of drugs? The kind that induced the suicides, if drugs were actually involved? Or, like in my own case ..."

Daniel's voice trailed off, he hesitated, things from the past filling his mind. He told Janet, "You know, I've been on the receiving end of Clemm's drugs too, at least, that's what I've always believed. And the way it happened was inadvertent, not intentional, but nevertheless ..."

Daniel stopped, looking at Janet, wondering if she knew what he was talking about. He asked, "Did you ever hear the rest of the tape we recorded?"

"No, not yet. But I plan to."

"If Clemm _does_ drug Sam, he won't move ahead very fast or make it too overwhelming, because he needs her clear-headed to help him plot his planet search. I believe we have some time, at least."

Janet trusted his insight and said, "Whatever decision you make - I'm behind you. It'll be O.K."

Daniel went back to the HQ. He hadn't been looking for it but, like it or not, the next big decisions would be his.

o0o

Dr. Frasier had her hands full earlier but things had stabilized; there had been many deaths in the U-Tower disaster, but so far the number of injured stood at only thirteen. Almost as inexplicable as the U-Tower catastrophe itself, the number of those injured was unbelievably small and the injuries relatively minor.

Her listening and transcription of the tape of Daniel's Clemm Crawford story had been interrupted with the U-Tower's demise. From what Daniel said, it sounded as if the issue of Clemm's drugs was a story that still resonated very personally for him. She wanted to know, she wanted to get back to her tape and listen to the rest of it - there might be something relevant to their current situation, who knows? Anyway, she needed and deserved a break and things were more or less stable for the moment. She got her coffee and her tape player and turned it on.

...

...

...

Daniel had flown to the port city of Larnaca on the island of Cyprus and was trying to relax, drinking coffee in the hotel's cafe-lounge down the hall from the front lobby. The hotel concierge walked over to him and asked, "Mr. Jackson, would you like me to ask the waiter to add some amaretto to your coffee?"

Daniel declined the offer for the sweet, almond-flavored liqueur - he drank his coffee straight, black with no cream. But then Daniel said, "On second thought, let me try that."

"Very good," the concierge said. "No extra charge, of course. Never a charge for you, Mr. Jackson."

The concierge, Mr. Kalandros, made a point of knowing the hotel residents' names. Though he spoke with a heavy Greek accent, his English was perfect. He was dark, swarthy, not very tall. He stood tapping the ash of his cigar into a cylindrical silver ashtray that he carried about with him. He seemed to like clicking the heels of his boots, one against the other. Daniel wondered, to clean them off? Out of restlessness? Or just for the sound of it? He didn't know and didn't ask.

Daniel asked about the gym in the basement floor. Mr. Kalandros said, "That's a great idea, Mr. Jackson. It's seldom used and you'll have it all to yourself. I'll go get a key for a gym locker."

Daniel sat drinking his coffee, reflecting on how he'd come to be here. More than a year had passed since Rae's accident. Feeling as if everything about L.A. had become a dead end, he'd moved to Chicago to study under Egyptologist Dr. David Jordan at the University of Chicago's Oriental Institute. On an early August evening Daniel attended a lecture at the university sponsored by the Chicago Zen Center. The speaker was the Korean Zen Master, Sunam Simun.

After the Zen Master's speech, Daniel stood not far from the podium where many students, devotees and visitors gathered to mingle, discuss or just to be in the presence of the Zen Master. Daniel overheard a young student talking about _a magnitude calculus_ ..._ attended a lecture _... _off the coast of Greece_ ...

Daniel waited, came up to him and asked the young student, "Where did you hear about that subject, a _magnitude calculus_?"

The young student answered, "I took a course during my summer vacation on Santorini, and the International Center for Learning there sponsored a talk one night. Pretty interesting lecture."

Daniel had a hunch. He asked, "What was the instructor's name?"

"Ummm, let me see, I think it started with a _D_, something like, _Mr. Derrick_ ... ?"

Daniel asked, "Could his name have been Daericour?"

"That's it! Mr. Daericour. You know him?"

"He's an old friend of mine. We were at UCLA together."

Finally a clue. Daniel asked, "Did Mr. Daericour teach classes there, on Santorini?"

The young student said, "The talk wasn't part of the school curriculum. The instructor - Mr. Daericour, must have gotten permission to hold his talk on their campus. I just assumed that after the lecture he moved on. But there was something about him ... so I asked for his address and he gave it to me. I've got it in my address book back at the dorm."

Daniel got the address, which was 26 Menandrou Street, Athens.

Two weeks later Daniel landed in Athens. He left his hotel on Halkokondili Street in the morning and found 26 Menandrou Street in the Omonia district of Athens. He'd been given no apartment number or room number and that address was a large, industrial-style building. Daniel went in but found no residents to ask, no front desk or office to make an inquiry.

He went outside and waited**, **just watching and waiting and wondering what he should try next. He went inside again, again found no one, and started checking doors but every room was locked, everything bolted tight. Outside, he found a grocery store in the building next door. It was run by Lebanese people who spoke English, and he went inside to see if they could tell him anything. The shopkeeper told him he knew someone, it could be the one Daniel was looking for: "There was an American, an English teacher, who used to come in about once or twice a week to buy bread and pastries, things like that. I never knew his name. I used to call him_ Professor_. It could have been him."

Daniel remembered he had a picture of Geyelyn in his suitcase at his hotel; he went back, got it and showed it to the Lebanese shopkeeper. It was a picture of Geyelyn and himself. The shopkeeper recognized him and said, "That's him, _the Professor_."

"Heused to come in, but not anymore. Not for a long time." He didn't know what happened to him. The shopkeeper looked closely at the picture. "That amulet he's wearing - I used to sell those here several years ago. He bought one. They were hand-made by my son-in-law. We had a dozen or so to sell."

The shopkeeper remembered that someone came in with _the Professor_ once, a woman. "I remember her, because she bought all the rest of the amulets we had left, six or seven of them."

The shopkeeper stood there, thinking about the sale of those amulets.

"She probably used a credit card," he said. "For purchases over a certain amount, I require a purchaser to fill out an invoice form, with a home address that must match the credit card billing address." He kept those records for five years and for a "reasonable gratuity" he'd check his records downstairs.

Daniel wondered, could she be Linda Mercado? He asked, "How much?"

The shopkeeper said, "100 U.S. dollars."

Daniel asked, "Did the invoice ask for a phone number?"

Shopkeeper: "Yes. I'll give it to you for an additional 50."

Daniel thought he'd finally had some luck. He told the man, "It's a deal."

The shopkeeper searched and found the information Daniel wanted. Her address and phone were on the island of Cyprus. He said, "Her name is Sandrine Michaelasotro."

...

Cyprus. At the hotel in Larnaca, Daniel had been down in the gym all afternoon, working out with free weights and the treadmill, trying to focus on the workout and keep doubts about his meeting with Sandrine tomorrow at bay. It was all unknown territory.

When Mr. Kalandros, the concierge, wasn't busy with customers or hotel business, he liked to walk around the premises, check-up on things, find out how the hotel customers were doing. He especially liked Americans and so he sought Daniel out and looked for opportunities to talk with him.

Now he was watching Daniel work-out, clicking his boot heels one against the other, over and over. Tapping the ash from his cigar into his cylindrical ashtray. Daniel thought, the name "Kalandros" reminded him of "Colombo," as in "Lt. Colombo."

Kalandros asked, "What kind of music do you like, Mr. Jackson? I can have it piped-in here through the PA system, any kind of music you like. Do you like Rock and Roll? I can play the Rolling Stones. Or maybe you like R & B, or soul music?"

"Mr. Kalandros, you can just put anything on. Rock'n Roll would be fine." Kalandros went outside to put on the music.

Daniel thought, it wasn't just that the name "Kalandros" reminded him of "Colombo." The funny way he kept tapping his heels, the cigar, his mannerisms, something about the way he spoke, everything reminded Daniel of Peter Falk, the actor, playing "Lieutenant Colombo."

Kalandros-Colombo came back and, without asking, put amaretto in Daniel's coffee, saying, "No charge, Mr. Jackson, no extra charge."

Daniel had decided he preferred his coffee straight, without the amaretto**,** but didn't say anything. It seemed to make Kalandros happy to add the liqueur. They talked for awhile, about monuments and tourist attractions and the island itself, but eventually Daniel excused himself and went back to his room. The next morning he'd be meeting Sandrine Michaleasotro.

Next morning Daniel hired a car and driver and met her where she'd directed him, on a trailhead overlooking a monastery in the Troodhos area, and soon he was walking in the Troodhos Mountains with Sandrine. She spoke in French, telling Daniel she didn't have much time, she was leaving soon on a short but important trip. When Daniel asked where she'd be traveling to, Sandrine answered, "Athens."

She didn't disclose her nationality but besides French she was fluent in Greek and English. Soon enough, they both realized Daniel's French was rusty and that their best common language would be English. She asked, "Are you a professor?"

"No, I'm a graduate student."

"What do you study?"

"Languages, archaeology, anthropology. And mythology. More and more I find myself drawn to Egyptian mythology."

"Perhaps you're beginning to realize, or suspect, that some myths are more than the allegorical legends that we commonly take them to be?"

Daniel nodded yes. As they walked they talked about his field of study and his research in languages and mythology. Sandrine asked, "Is there something in particular that drives your interest?"

"The great pyramid of Khufu seems to have a grip on my imagination, lately. Not only has my interest in mythology been dominated by questions about the Khufu pyramid, but actually, Sandrine, I think it's becoming something of an obsession."

Daniel didn't think of it like that until just now, when he said the word. It just came out, but he realized he'd thought about the Khufu pyramid so much lately he even had dreams at night about it.

They walked and talked about the pyramids and Egyptian and Greek mythology. She knew mythology and she also seemed to have a special interest, Atlantis. She spoke of Atlantis as if it were very real to her and spoke of someone she called "my teacher." She said, "Atlantis was real. It's real still. It existed on Earth and has continued to exist, just not here."

"Not where?"

"Not here on Earth. It's on another planet."

"Another planet?"

"Yes. In another galaxy."

Notwithstanding all the time he'd spent with Geyelyn, Daniel still considered such talk outlandish. Sure, as if an ancient city, once sunk beneath the Mediterranean Sea, could surface and transport itself to another planet. Oh yes, and by the way, it was now in another galaxy. He asked, "How do you know this?"

"Because of my _teacher_. I call her that, she communicates with me, as if she knew me in a previous life, when I was an _Atlantean_. I didn't go with them when they left, I must have stayed - I don't remember my life in Atlantis. I've tried but I can't remember it."

Daniel let it go.

She also talked about the pyramids, who might have built them and what they were used for. She talked of many other mysteries, all pretty much in-line, Daniel thought, with what he'd heard from Geyelyn. They walked on and eventually came close to the monastery they'd seen from the overlook. There were signs posted, it was off-limits to the non-Orthodox. They'd gone as far as they could go.

Sandrine said, "You said you were looking for Geyelyn Daericour. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm out of touch with him now. I don't have his address or phone number. But even if I did, I could not give them to you. Not without his permission."

Daniel's heart sank. He'd had a feeling this had probably been too easy, too good to be true. He asked, "If you hear from him, will you tell him I'd like to talk to him?"

Sandrine said yes; Daniel gave her his phone number and address in Chicago. He asked, "And if I try to find him on my own?"

Sandrine answered, "If Geyelyn doesn't want to be found, you won't find him." Daniel nodded and said, "I understand." But he didn't really understand, not anything about the larger picture. They were walking back now, on a path in the Troodhos in the direction of their cars. Daniel had so many questions swimming around in his head. He asked, "Does your group believe that there is no such thing as an accident, that everything has a particular reason for being?"

"Some people believe that, some do not. There's little agreement. There are many beliefs, many groups which intermingle and hold over-lapping beliefs, but there is no one, single belief that people hold in common. There are so many different conceptions of the universe taking hold these days, including some odd ideas, especially here in the Troodhos." She hesitated, not sure what the young American mythology student would think. She said, "I know of an Egyptian living here in Cyprus, who believes he is a descendant of Anubis."

Daniel looked at her quizzically, waiting for more. She said, "That in itself is nothing so strange, considering the times we live in. What is more unusual is that he has followers and that these followers believe in him so strongly."

Daniel said, "I think Geyelyn believes he's the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian priest."

Sandrine nodded, "Yes, an Egyptian priest during the time of the Old Kingdom. Geyelyn also believes he was a member of the Hassamboulia - an outlaw band here on Cyprus in the 1890's." She hesitated, watching for his reactions, then continued, "My own lineage, after leaving Atlantis, had some, what is the word - _stimulating_years too. I was a Jewish man, a Pharisee, during the time of Jesus. And again a man, a Benedictine monk during the time of Pope Gregory II. Aside from knowing I lived in Atlantis, those are the only lives I remember."

"You were a monk under Pope Gregory II? What century would that be?"

"The 8th century, during the time of St. Boniface." She smiled her knowing smile while she told Daniel a story about St. Boniface that she said she had witnessed herself: "I'd been a monk in England and was sent by the Pope to go with Boniface when he travelled to Thuringia, which was the name for Germany at that time. The Thuringians were pagans who worshipped nature spirits and Norse gods and believed oak trees were sacred. After Boniface arrived in Thuringia and advanced into the sacred forest of Thor, he approached the towering oak tree they venerated. He picked up an axe and drove it deep, and just as he struck the first blow, a mighty wind brought the tree crashing to the ground. Right then on the spot, all the Thuringians converted. It was an amazing time, an exhilarating time for me."

They talked for a while longer as they walked and eventually were almost back at their cars. They stopped at the overlook, looking out at the Trooditissa Monastery. They spent some time just looking - Daniel sensed she was about finished saying what she wanted to say. Finally, just before they were about to leave, Daniel asked about suicide: "Do you think there's an optimal time to die, that one can choose one's own best moment and have it benefit a future life?"

Sandrine looked directly at Daniel and answered, "You know, if you commit suicide once, you'll do it again."

They both took one last look at the landscape spread out before them. Sandrine gave a big sigh, then said, "Those people ... they ought to understand. At some point, you have to learn to live."

o0o

Back at his hotel in Larnaca, Daniel was again working out with the dumbbells and barbells down in the gym. After he'd been there about a half hour, the hotel concierge paid a visit.

"What about today, Mr. Jackson? What kind of music today"?

"What else have you got, besides the Rolling Stones?"

"We have Abba, and Michael Jackson. You like Michael Jackson? Or how about Madonna?" But his guest didn't appear very enthusiastic. He tried again, "We have The Eagles. I think they're from California."

Daniel asked if he had any jazz? "No," Kalandros looked disappointed to have to admit it, "No jazz. We might get some jazz in next month," he said hopefully. Daniel said he'd go with The Eagles, and Kalandros-Colombo went to take care of it. Soon enough, Daniel was working out with "Hotel California" playing in the background.

Later, Kalandros went out and came back with ahot cup of coffee for Daniel, "With amaretto, just the way you like it, Mr. Jackson."

Somehow they got on the subject of local myths. Kalandros told Daniel about Agia Irini and two priests, "who," he said, "were three Saints who died during the Turkish invasion of Greece." He painted colorful descriptions of sacred caves, apparitions, miracles and the story of a miracle-worker known as the _Magus of Strovolos_. Kalandros said, "Let me tell you about my vision, and about the vibrating stones outside Paphos."

He settled himself in a chair, tapping his cigar ash into his silver ash tray. "About five years ago I was walking in the hills above Paphos, it was in the middle of the afternoon. I've walked through that area thousands of times, my whole life. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day. That area is known for having fields of large, white stones known as _vibrating stones_. These stones are said to have the power to give a vision to a chosen passer-by, and though it must be very rare, that's the belief among many of the people near Paphos. Well, that day I had my vision. I began to see a mist or a vapor rising from one of the large, white stones, and I heard a voice whispering in my ear, telling me I should lay my head down on the stone as if lying with my head on a pillow. I heeded the voice and as I lay there felt a vibration running through my body, and fell into a trance or a dreamy state, and this is what I saw:

"The whole world had selected me to go to the land of the dead to find out what happens after we die, and come back and tell them. I agreed to go and then traveled to that world and there was a great house which was a greeting house. It was built like a ziggurat, taller than the tallest London tower but wide, miles and miles wide as far as my eye could see. Above me only sky, no ceiling, an open-air building. No windows, one door for entering only, no other entrance or exit. I was told I would meet the original ancestor of my family, the first of my lineage, of whom I had no knowledge whatsoever. My ancestor greeted me warmly and introduced me to all my other ancestors, all those down through the ages whose thoughts and actions and whose own lives resulted in my existence.

"The building itself was a vast waiting room, where all must enter and remain waiting, no one could leave until judgment day. All must wait, no one going anywhere. No one going to heaven or hell or purgatory, all must wait there in that giant room, whether it be for hundreds or thousands or a hundred thousand years, until judgment day arrived. I knew all this without hearing any sound. I could see them talking, they could hear each other and I could understand, but since I was not one of them I could not hear any kind of sound. For me it was a silent world.

"Then I opened my eyes and raised my head from the stone and saw a woman in the fields some distance away, dressed in black. I caught just a glimpse before she disappeared, like mist in the air. I felt a cool rush of air, then nothing else."

Kalandros-Colombo stood up, tapping his heels against the wall, putting out his cigar. He said, "You'll come to learn that this is a land of saints and miracles and visions."

"Yes," Daniel said, "I'm beginning to realize that."

Later in the evening, with the sun going down on the island, Daniel went out on the balcony of his hotel room, looking out over the Mediterranean in the direction of Egypt. There was a hazy, slightly blue mist rising over the sea as he pondered Kalandros-Colombo's vision. Daniel thought, this island couldn't really be the end, could it? Just another dead end? Something led me here. I feel there's something I should be looking for, if not Geyelyn, then something else, something I need to do. But what?

He decided to stay an extra day. Then another. He was relaxed and yet in a state of expectation, looking for options, possibilities. Over the next two days, Daniel slowly formulated a plan. Kalandros and his talk of visions reminded Daniel of Rae's interest in going on a _vision quest_. It had been part of her idea of "direct action." He knew a _vision quest_would involve fasting and he'd already begun, two days ago: he was eating nothing and drinking nothing but water and his usual coffee. He could fast and still drink coffee, he believed, because coffee had no real food content as long as he added no sugar or cream.

Kalandros' words about his vision stuck in his mind. Maybe the fasting would open him up, clear some channel? There was more: he would keep his fast and go to Giza. It would be "direct action." Up to this point, there'd been no clearly defined question or purpose in mind beyond finding Geyelyn and trying to find some answers about his disappearance, but now he knew he needed something else, and that was to find an answer to the questions that had come more and more to the forefront of his consciousness. Those questions were, how old were the pyramids, and who were their architects"? Was there something about the pyramids that lay not just undiscovered, but unsuspected, completely unimagined? Right then he felt he had to know.

It wouldn't be more than a fifty-five minutes flight to Egypt. He intended to keep fasting and enter the Khufu pyramid in search of a vision. He began packing his things. Twenty-four hours later, he landed in Egypt.

11


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter** **12**

At the Cairo International Airport. Daniel, slightly light-headed from the fasting, found the passage through customs and the bustle at the airport a little confusing. On the way out he stopped to order coffee to go, then went outside tohire a taxi.

There were some strange effects from the fasting. For one thing, though it should have felt warm in Cairo he was feeling cool. He draped his jacket over his shoulders - the same lightweight jacket he used for motorcycle riding when he'd been at UCLA. Looking out the window of the cab and then trying to sip his coffee, he noticed his hands shaking and decided he'd better ease-up on the coffee. He felt noticeably faint. One thing for sure, his hunger had become intense and he wondered how long he could go on like this.

He happened to reach into the pocket of his jacket and noticed a hole inside the inner fabric - it'd been unused for a long time. His bike was gone now, he'd sold it when he left Los Angeles and took a plane when he moved to Chicago, but the jacket was too versatile not to keep. Absent-mindedly feeling through the hole in the pocket's inner fabric, he found a tic-tac or some other kind of mint and pulled it out. He didn't even look at it because he knew he shouldn't eat it, what with the fasting, but thought maybe a mint wouldn't qualify as food and would be O.K., and at that moment he really wanted that mint. Had to have it. He put it in his mouth and sucked on it, peppermint? Sucked on it some more then swallowed it. It occurred to him that, since it was the jacket Clemm used to borrow, the tic-tac was probably compliments of Clemm Crawford.

From the modern, upscale environs of Heliopolis, they drove west into the neighborhood known as Islamic Cairo. Looking out the windows he saw the dusty, narrow, winding streets crowded with people. The taxi driver spoke English and talked non-stop about the neighborhoods they drove through and about street musicians and Egyptian politics - Daniel paid little attention.

"You see street celebrations in Cairo's popular neighborhoods," the taxi driver said, "like here in the Islamic Quarter, where the _sha'bi_, the Muhammad 'Ali Street musicians perform, with their electric organs and their tambourines. Maybe some drums." Pointing out the window, he asked, "You see? They rope off the street."

Daniel could see the crowded street bazaars and when they stopped at a light could smell theexotic fusion of arabic foods and spices, jasmine, and the smoke from sheesha pipes. The driver talked about the move to forbid Upper Egyptians and other rural migrants to Cairo. "The _fellahin_, who are the rural people or landless peasants, have been moving into old Cairo neighborhoods. The _Khassa_, the elites, and much of the general populace too, see them as a threat to their _refined civilization_. But that's ridiculous, I don't see it that way."

Next they drove through the serene neighborhood known as Old Cairo, which is the Christian Coptic quarter, past the Coptic _Hanging Church_ and _Abu Serga_, the driver pointing them out, then driving on Pyramid Road towards Giza. An hour or so passed driving out to the Khufu pyramid with the driver talking the whole time, but Daniel paid no attention to any of his talk. He was completely absorbed in his own thoughts. He still felt cool ... how could he feel cool in Egypt in August?

Daniel asked,** "**Is the air conditioning on?

"No sir. Do you like it on?"

"No, that's O.K."

Daniel found that hard to believe, it felt like the air conditioning was on and set up high, and as time passed another peculiar thing Daniel noticed was that the big yellow taxi seemed even bigger than he'd realized; it appeared to be especially large, maybe a deluxe, luxury sedan? He asked the driver, "Is this a regular size taxi?"

The driver said, "They call these cabs _luxury_ _sedans_, but they're really nothing different than our standard-size taxi cabs."

As they drove through Giza towards the pyramids Daniel began to feel as if there'd been some increase or _acceleration_ of consciousness - he didn't know how else to describe it but that's the word that occurred to him, whatever it might mean. He thought it might be the fasting kicking in. Funny thing was, his hunger had suddenly disappeared. They kept driving, but something started to feel really different. Something powerful and strange. A thought popped into his mind - since Clemm used to borrow this jacket ...

His train of thought stopped short, as some unrecognizable fear began rising within. If Clemm _had_ left a mint behind in his jacket, it might be no ordinary mint. What could a powerful, specially-designed hallucinogenic do when you've been fasting three days going on four? Hell, maybe it was just the effect of the fasting, and it really was just a mint? A voice came back to him, "You're paranoid, man." It was Clemm Crawford's voice. "You're paranoid, man, paranoid."

At first, his mind began flooding with apprehension at the thought, but Daniel realized he had to keep his mind moving or he'd freeze up, get "stuck." Some time passed, he couldn't say how much, but eventually everything became still, extraordinarily quiet and perfectly still, as if ordinary thinking and the internal dialogue had stopped or was transformed or had ceased to operate automatically. Daniel became aware of a consciousness greater than his own, actively transcendent, awake on some other plane. What followed was a quickening of consciousness, an acceleration beyond belief and awareness of a ray from above, descending towards him, piercing into him.

Daniel sat apprehensively in the back seat holding his coffee whilethe big luxury cab continued straight towards the pyramid. The driver said, "Sir, parking is permitted on the south side but ... Sir, parking is permitted on the south side but ... Sir, parking is permitted ..." but at that point, the cab wasn't stopping, it was driving right into the pyramid! Daniel held on, gripping the door handle, bracing for impact. It never happened. Instead, he found himself transported into the pyramid, feeling lighter than air, with a gravity less than zero, transparent, without density.

He was inside the King's Chamber, seeing the familiar pink granite, the red granite sarcophagus, the saw marks on the outside and the remains of drill holes. Looking up, the air shafts. The _acceleration_ was now at full blast. Then he was walking, ascending and descending and ascending. Finally, time stopped, standing still or floating in front of him. A kaleidoscopic brazen cloud 9 number 22 minus zero with jaded masks, lilies, watermelon, jasmine. Blue-green the Being spoke, majestic? but metallic, muffled, hollowed-out mechanical-sounding, all-around and sweeping up around him, hard to hear, nothing capable of discernment but still one knew like knowing in a dream that someone you know is a particular someone, you know it through a feeling, just KNOWING. Comprehensible, like in a dream but more so - the questions were all out there, the answers all inside. Pink sand against azure sky is the limit, "Beknown who I am, the creator, the structure within more than ten thousand Earth years standing." Silence, echoing through the chamber. Looking pale straight ahead, androgynous. Pure white light flooding through, echoing through him, "Beknown who I am, who I am, who I am. Ra."

Kaleidoscopic. Not completely distinct and yet not obscure, because he _knew_. He now _knew_.

A long time passed, just floating there, then time began moving again and finally he saw the lime-lemon big yellow taxi, standing there, waiting for him. "Time to go, sir," the driver said.

After that, nothing. The next thing he remembered was waking up in a sweaty bed in a seedy hotel in a rough part of the Islamic Quarter. It took weeks for the pieces of what happened to come back to him, and he never was able to remember anything at all about what really happened with the taxi - how he came to get out, and how he and the taxi got on the other side of the pyramid. All that actually happened regarding the taxi was lost, gone from his memory.

He thought, he must have come in at the North Entrance and departed by the one on the west. Later, as he pieced it together, he remembered being inside the pyramid. He remembered traveling the ascending and descending passageways, through corridors to the Grand Gallery; and then the pink granite walls of the King's Chamber. Up ladders, through the tiny corridor above the King's Chamber, which is a very narrow construction chamber filled with modern graffiti and an ancient "signature" in hieroglyphics - the name of King Khufu.

But where it happened wasn't in the King's Chamber, it was in the Queen's Chamber. He'd walked as if floating up the ascending passageway to the Queen's Chamber. Why he met no one else, any tourists, he didn't know. He remembered thinking, No tourists. What time is it?

In the Queen's Chamber he'd felt a presence. Standing face to face with him was someone, neither male nor female, androgynous. Its physical body was human in appearance, but somehow very_ shallow._ This Being was simply ... not human. The Being appeared to be looking at Daniel from inside the pyramid, but he then realized that - no, he was not looking at but _through_ him. The Being was gazing as if inspecting his own work, at the work he created. He was the creator and the architect. But without doubt, not human. Of this he felt absolutely certain.

Standing in front of the Being, Daniel asked his questions: "What is the age of this pyramid? Who is its creator?"

Though the sound of the Being's voice was muffled - it sounded mechanical, metallic or somehow otherwise distorted, he could nevertheless _understand_ the answer, just by _knowing_. More than a vague intuition, there was a dynamic, tingling _sense_ of the order of things, producing a feeling of _received knowledge_. An intuition, or an illumination. The Being had given his answers: the Khufu pyramid had already stood for 10,000 Earth years, and the Being Daniel saw was the pyramid's creator, a member of an alien race.

o0o

That next day, after he woke up in that flop house hotel, he checked out and went outside on the street. He saw dusty streets, flies above the fruit stands in the markets, children playing, beggars. The morning daylight was bright and bleak. There was an awareness full of clarity, a clarity so sharp it was almost jagged. His eyes followed a hawk in the sky, odd for the city, hanging there for the longest time, drifting and drifting, and following the hawk was a plume of smoke ... or an odd formation of clouds?

He wandered through the maze of bazaars, looking for some landmark to establish his exact location. He felt profoundly different. Had it all been only a hallucination, caused by the drug or the fasting? He didn't think so. He could never believe that. He felt as if veils of illusion had fallen away. For the first time he now knew the truth, he _knew_ the pyramids were built by some alien race, thousands of years earlier than was commonly believed.

And yet, though he should have felt happy, he did not. There was a satisfaction in knowing that he had found the answer he wanted, but there was no feeling of well-being. Mentally, all seemed crystal clear. Emotionally, something was missing. He felt empty, without depth. As if some part of himself had wandered off and faded away. Probably, it would pass, he thought. He had to get back to Chicago.

o0o

Back in Chicago, though most of his memory of what happened became more and more clear, there was something still missing. The same feeling, the profound emptiness that he experienced on the morning after the pyramid, remained with him. He didn't yet know whether what he felt was a temporary condition or something permanent but, certainly, it seemed there'd been some trade-off. On the one hand, he'd received the most spectacular knowledge; at the same time the experience sapped something from him, drained some part of himself, something with which to feel deeply.

The weeks turned into months but all he felt was emptiness. He could work - his condition didn't affect his ability to function mentally, but his inability to feel any warm feeling became pronounced in his consciousness. There was no deep feeling of any sort, no feeling of joy, no feeling of love. He felt as if some part of himself was frozen or had disappeared or as if he'd wandered into some lifeless dead-zone which held him trapped and immobilized.

Months passed and then a year but it only seemed to get worse. He passed through a twilight state of non-feeling, as if all energy and feeling were being sucked-out of him. He was able to progress with his studies and research but, emotionally, he lived in a twilight zone of non-feeling, not knowing where to turn next. He continued that way throughout the school year, waiting and hoping for change. He wondered, what kind of phenomena was this? What happened in Egypt?

With the passage of time, he felt as if moving towards a deathly state. Trying to stave off despair, Daniel made a visit to Memorial Hospital's Department of Psychiatry. He explained how he'd been feeling. When asked how it happened, he told them the story - though of course the story was apt to make him sound completely crazy.

They said, "We'll start with some testing."

Daniel looked at the intern questioningly.

"It's really nothing," said the intern.

Yeah, nothing, Daniel later thought, three months into it. It had been extensive. There had been physicals, blood work and patient histories to provide. There were psychological tests and batteries of tests - MMPI, Rorschach, Bender test,hypoglycemic glucose testing, anEEG and a PET scan - which all came back negative.

There were experiments with tranquilizers and anti-depressants. There were psychologists and psychiatrists, a team of cognitive therapists and Jungian therapists: Karen Monez-O'Grady, Martina Martincevik, Dr. Phillip Ritz, Dr. Stephen Callenchini, Dr. Raymond Lick and even a hypnotherapist, Dr. Kolchak.

Regarding the test results,Dr. Lick eventually told him, "We've tried everything. We can find nothing wrong with you. At least, nothing that's quantifiable. Whatever it is that's bothering you, it's not detectable."

Beyond the tests, clinical psychologists had as hard a time getting a handle on it as he did, and tended to treat the problem as a "figment of his imagination." One of the therapists, Dr. Martina Martincevik, asked, "Your subject is mythology, is that correct?

Daniel answered, "That's correct."

Dr. Martincevik: "Let's talk about that. Let's explore ... your own _myth_."

"My _myth_? What do you mean by that?"

"The description you've created for yourself about what happened."

"I've just described what happened, the events as they occurred. Nothing was made up."

"So you say and so you believe. But what if I suggested to you that everything was, in fact, _made-up_, that your mind created and assembled all these _facts_, arranged and produced a narrative you could handle?"

"I know what I've felt, what I experienced. I know what I _still_ feel."

"But you say you feel that you cannot feel. Do you see any contradiction there?"

Daniel knew it wasn't easy to explain. He didn't know it would be impossible. What he was experiencing was invisible to others, and now, since the tests and therapy sessions revealed nothing, apparently his problem was also invisible to the psychologists, putting him in the unusual situation where he had to try to convince the doctors that he really did have a problem.

. . .

Daniel got passed from one psychologist to another. Dr. Stephen Callinchini had a Freudian background. The psychotherapist asked him, "Do you have any unusual sexual history?"

Daniel asked, "What do you mean?"

"Any unusual tendencies, anything out of the ordinary?"

"No, uhh, not that I know of."

"Not that you know of? What does that mean?"

"Nothing, I mean, it doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't mean anything. Hmmm. Are you hetero or homosexual?"

"What?"

"Are you gay or straight?"

"I'm straight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. What's this all about?"

"I'm just trying to cover all the possibilities. Eliminate any blind alleys at the start, so we can save time by not having to double back later."

"Well, O.K. I guess I understand. I have problems but that sort of thing isn't one of them."

"Problems? What are your problems?"

"I mean, the things I told you about already, what I've already explained dozens of times."

"Well, why don't you explain it one more time. Retelling it might bring up something we've missed, maybe something you forgot to mention the first time?"

"Like what?"

"Well, as I said, any sexual orientation issues."

"But I told you that's not my problem."

"Well, yes, you said that. But I'm not going to eliminate such things out of hand, even though certainly there are other possibilities."

Another psychologist**, **Karen Monez-O'Grady, spent some time looking through her records, reading through various testing results.

Daniel asked her what it all meant, what was her diagnosis?

Monez-O'Grady said, "It's very hard to say at this point."

"That's O.K., just tell me what you think."

**"**Well, of course this is just preliminary, but one possible diagnosis is _personality disorder_."

"_Personality disorder_?"

"It's possible. Other possibilities may be _anxiety disorder_, or _borderline schizophrenia_ ..."

She stopped for a few seconds, again looking through his records. She continued: "That's assuming there's no undetected aphasia. Although, if it remains persistently undetectable, then there wouldn't be much we'd be able to do for you, at this point."

Daniel was curious: "Why did you include _personality disorder_? I mean, what would that suggest?"

Monez-O'Grady answered, "Well, _personality disorders_ stem from problems not based on anxiety, such as _anti-social personality_."

"But I'm not anti-social."

"Well, some of the doctors here feel you haven't been particularly cooperative. I'm not the first staff member to suggest your problem may be the result of anti-social tendencies."

Daniel's frustration only grew. Not having answers was one thing, but having to deal with the team of psychologists was another. He found it almost maddening.

One night, walking outside after he'd left Memorial Hospital, Daniel brooded on his situation, on the way his life was going. It was bizarre, he thought, completely bizarre. In fact, his whole life had become bizarre, Daniel reflected. Not in the way that Clemm Crawford once claimed, but bizarre nonetheless. He thought about Clemm, which only increased his frustration even further. He believed he'd experienced one of Clemm's experimental drugs, in Egypt, when he'd swallowed that mint. It remained true that any thought of Clemm could bring Daniel to the boiling point. He swore to himself, if he ever saw him again, he'd ... he'd pay him back!

He met again with Dr. Raymond Lick, who was the Department head. The doctor discussed one more possibility: ECT, electro-shock therapy. Daniel didn't look interested. Dr. Lick said: "Well, I just wanted to provide you with all the options."

Daniel wasn't interested and said, "That's not an option."

Dr. Lick: "Well then. Here's where we stand. There is no test and there is no medical treatment, that we currently know of, for evaluating and treating a feeling that feelings are missing or lacking or somehow _lost_, especially since none of your symptoms seem to affect your functioning in the world. If it's some little known form of depression or depersonalization, the lost feelings may or may not return on their own."

"But it's been over a year now."

"We can try new medications - a new anti-depressant will be on the market next week. Beyond that, well ..."

His voice trailed off. Daniel could only look on helplessly as Dr. Lick told him, "I'm sorry, Daniel. Beyond that, we'll just have to wait and see."

o0o

Daniel decided there was one other remote possibility. He contacted Sandrine, asked if he could meet with her, and within a week was back in Larnaca, Cyprus.

On the phone, she'd arranged for a meeting place, which was the Larnaca marina. Daniel joined the tourists wandering on the landing docks, watching the boats at harbor, the ships floating out to sea. Sandrine arrived and they exchanged a welcoming embrace. She looked at him and said, "Over the phone, you said that after your experience in the pyramid something happened, that you had a problem you would ask me about. Tell me what happened."

Daniel explained his story, what happened, how he felt. His feeling of emptiness. His inability to feel joy or love or any warm feeling, to feel anything deeply. He said, "I'm not really _there_, not fully. Not the way I used to be, not the way that felt like _me_."

Sandrine said, "You said you asked questions in the pyramid. What were they?"

Daniel told her what he'd asked, about the age of the Khufu pyramid and its architect.

Sandrine: "Wrong questions. You asked for knowledge, but a quest for a vision isn't meant for gaining knowledge, at least not intellectual knowledge that can be used to further your career."

Daniel said quietly, apologetically, "But I had to know."

"Yes, you had to know. But the quest is not meant to satisfy one's intellectual curiosity.**" **She was practically scolding him.** "**Asking the wrong questions makes for a completely false orientation, throwing-off all equilibrium. How do you say in English, _C'est vraiment karma mauvais?"_

Daniel translated,_ It's really bad karma._ He was reminded of Percival's Grail quest; Percival entered the castle where he might have found the Holy Grail but didn't recognize it and lost his chance when he failed to ask the right question.

Sandrine said, "There may be some deeper cause, Daniel, beyond the questions or how you asked them, I don't know. We'll leave that to the psychiatrists. Whatever the cause, the problem now is that your astral, mental and causal bodies are out of _alignment_. As my _teacher_ would say, you are _out of phase._ We must try to reset these higher vehicles. Here is what we will do: do you know the _Ayios Lazaros_ - the Church of St. Lazarus in Larnaca?"

"I know where it is, but I haven't been inside."

"Tomorrow, in the early afternoon, you will go there and you should go inside and find the sanctuary. It has a crypt. You can wait for me there. Tonight, I want you fasting from early evening. Eat or drink nothing after 6 PM except water. Do you drink coffee?"

"I _live_ on coffee."

"No coffee. You can drink one cup of green tea in the morning but that is all, nothing else."

Daniel thought, she does not understand my relationship to coffee. He looked at her, hopefully, but she said, sternly, "No coffee. You must follow my instructions."

Sandrine looked at him and put an encouraging hand on his arm. She said, "You are not the first to face this kind of situation or to seek my help. Think positively, Daniel, by tomorrow afternoon forward energy will begin to move naturally and emotional energy will start to return. You will soon feel ready to live and to love again."

o0o

The next day, Daniel arrived early and went inside. There was a Byzantine coat-of-arms near the south door. Throughout the church he saw Greek, Latin and French inscriptions. The stone interior had three small domes on narrow arches, each on a Corinthian base. On a pillar, he saw a beautifully intricate, ornamental icon of Lazarus emerging from his tomb. Lazarus was the man Jesus resurrected from the dead at Bethany. He knew the legend, that after being resurrected by Jesus, Lazarus preached the gospel like the other apostles and later came to Cyprus, becoming Larnaca's first bishop. The legend tells that after his death, Lazarus was buried on this site under this ancient church.

Daniel realized that, rather than tourists, most people who came in were churchparishioners coming here for devotions, and the atmosphere truly fostered a devotional frame of mind. He passed the main altar and found the entrance to the sanctuary on the right side of the main altar. This room had a small altar and held an ancient crypt, surrounded with devotional candles. Some parishioners came into the sanctuary, quietly saying prayers, lighting devotional candles. There was the low murmur of devotees saying the rosary. They would come and go, leaving him alone for long periods of time. A few tourists occasionally came in, who tended to talk more, about various subjects, though still keeping their voices to a whisper.

When Sandrine arrived they were alone in the sanctuary and she wasted no time; she pressed a lever at the top of the crypt. A door he didn't notice before slid open and she led him downstairs. It was a catacomb. But most striking, there was a sarcophagus, made not from granite or limestone but from some mineral completely unknown to him, and had an unusual incandescent glow.

Sandrine told him, "Lie down in the sarcophagus, as if you are lying in a washtub. Just rest and relax. Let your mind go, Daniel, let everything flow, let your whole self flow with the universe." He got in.

The sarcophagus had a glass window on top, and air holes. Time passed as he lay there and eventually Sandrine spoke, but now her voice sounded transformed, melodic and supremely ethereal, as if somehow someone else were speaking _through her_, yet at the same time still recognizable as Sandrine. She said, "There is a place in your mind you have forgotten, Daniel, a place you need to find. It could be lost somewhere in your childhood, or somewhere else in your past, but you need to come home."

There was quiet, total stillness. She continued, "Find that place, Daniel, the place you have forgotten. You will know when you get there, like being home again after a long trip."

That was all, he never heard that unusual voice again. Some time passed and memories from the past drifted through his mind like puffs of smoke or passing clouds. Scenes of childhood floated by: his parents, the day he heard they'd died in an accident in the museum. Scenes of growing up, the ups and downs of his life. There were many memories of Rachel: he remembered Rae Rae when he'd first met her, standing by her bike, offering him walnut chocolate chip cookies. And words spoken by Geyelyn floated by: "Mensch, your real name, your occult name, is a unique combination of sounds, producing a mystic chord." And again, "Mensch, you're not planning to remain single all your life, are you? Knowledge of your mystic chord is essential in finding your twin flame." And Ivy and Rae Rae in the auditorium at the Science Fiction film festival, when Ivy called out, "It's Suzanne!" He thought, at one time _home_ was all about Suzanne, though that seemed like a long time ago. But Rae Rae had brought him a sense of comfort and home too, she'd been a confidante and a dear friend and he'd felt the loss deeply. All that, Suzanne and Rachel and Geyelyn, had begun to feel like something long ago, so long ago and far away.

Memories faded, he drifted off and came back and became clear again and began to feel as if some negative energy were draining away. There was a sensation of release - maybe the sarcophagus really had curative powers, and could drain-off illness or blockages from mind and body? Daniel continued to lie there. After about two hours in the sarcophagus, he felt a tingling at the top of his head, a tingling and other sensations of what he believed were truly real emotion. The tingling sensations were almost painful, in fact they actually _were_ painful. But at the same time, he was almost ecstatic at the awareness that feeling any emotion at all was something hopeful; it felt like circulation flowing back into an arm that had fallen asleep.

A long time passed and then finally, after what must have been another two hours, Sandrine roused him and released him from the sarcophagus. Sandrine put her finger to her lips and said, "Stay quiet, this is not yet a time for talking." She steadied him at first, and as he regained his firm footing she helped lead him and said, "Come with me, it is time to leave." They went upstairs and left the church.

Already, as he walked from the Church of St. Lazarus into the streets of Larnaca, he knew something had changed. It was as if he'd come from the land of the dead to the land of the living, as if shades were thrown open and light came shining into a darkened room. Sandrine spoke of "resetting his vehicles" but all Daniel knew was that something in him had returned. Sandrine's help and the sarcophagus had restored his emotional life, his ability to feel.

As they walked outside towards the marina, Sandrine told Daniel it was O.K. to talk. He told her how much better he was feeling. She said, "I want to tell you something. My _teacher_, as I call that part of myself ... she told me something about you. She said, _The universe has great plans for him_."

As Daniel walked near the water's edge in Larnaca's marina, he realized there was a summer wind blowing, a cool sweetness, the scent of fresh orange spice in the air. It seemed to him this was the most remarkable afternoon he'd known in a very long time.

o0o

Janet finished transcribing the final lines and turned-off the tape recorder. Daniel's story ended there, in Larnaca. 

11


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

United Edora Contractors, which coordinated and administered all the work at the Edoran mining complex, was actually owned by Universal Minerals, Inc., of Colorado. That much was well known, but what was unknown and hard to discover was that Universal Minerals was owned by Infinity Tectonics, which was one of a group of companies controlled by Rare Minerals Research Development, Inc. In fact, it was one subsidiary owned by another after another and it took a lot of digging to find out that at the end of the line, carefully hidden behind a few legitimate but otherwise mostly sham corporate veils, one would eventually come to Zeditron Industries, owned and tightly controlled by Adrian Conrad.

Clemm realized that Conrad made sure he would never be visible anywhere in the mining operation, much less take the hit for anything that happened on Edora. No matter what happened, Conrad wanted no threads that could implicate himself. If things went bad, Conrad would make sure that the Chief took the fall for it. Adrian Conrad had told Clemm, "If something big goes down and you try to disappear, I'll track you down and finish you."

What this meant for the Chief: he couldn't just escape to some planet-island in the sky; Conrad had people who would find him. And then his life would be in Conrad's hands, his fate decided on Conrad's terms. It wasn't a matter of fear - Clemm wasn't afraid of Conrad. The issue was that no matter what happened, his own fate, even his own death, should be on his own terms: the place, time and cause of final release should be of his own choosing. Because Clemm believed that when he left his physical body, if he were prepared and if all the conditions were right ... he would ascend.

o0o

Daniel had made his decision about Clemm's demands, and when he ran it by Griggs, the marshal was inclined to follow Daniel's lead. Marshal Griggs felt quite capable of handling problems on Edora, but the members of SG-1 were simply more experienced on every level when it came to the interplanetary dimension. They had information and personal experience he'd couldn't begin to approach, even after his long career in law enforcement. Yet he had to ask, "Dr. Jackson, what about Major Carter?"

Daniel answered, "Look, I'd like to try to buy some time. Clemm needs her now to help him with his planet exploration, but if we say no to him now, he may start right in plying her with drugs. And since the issue of opening the Stargate isn't immediate, I think we should let him do his research, let him use Sam for now, and at least buy some time to try to get more information."

Again, the marshal agreed. He said, "Tell Major Carter to go ahead, do it."

o0o

With the Chief watching over her, Carter told Sparks via intercom to align the printers to provide data output in both the Gateroom and the marshal's HQ. Regarding the analysis Clemm wanted, only Carter could input the data and then read, comprehend and analyze the output competently. The Chief could understand the data, but not in the raw form in which it was held in the SGC file. It required an interface, and that interface would be Carter herself.

The Chief had Carter analyzing atmospheric conditions, food resources, water resources, life signs and a long list of other bio-chemical, molecular factors, all intended to produce an ideal, human-friendly "index." Also essential to his design, the Chief specified an optimum distribution of the isotopes of certain elements.

Carter asked the Chief, "You want to juxtapose or correlate your _index_ with the distribution of certain isotopes, right?"

"That's right."

Carter said, "But two molecules which differ only in their isotopes will have an identical electronic structure and therefore almost indistinguishable chemical properties. The effects of isotopic variation on chemistry are essentially non-existent."

The Chief was nodding in agreement and said, "True, but isotopal variations will produce different sets of vibrational modes."

"You're right," Sam agreed. "Molecular vibrational modes are dependent on the shape and masses of its atoms. What isotopes are you looking for?"

The Chief said, "The _primordial_ isotopes."

Carter knew the concept but couldn't imagine what application he could have for it. She responded, "Well, current cosmology theorizes only four isotopes that were present at the time of the Big Bang: hydrogen, helium, lithium and beryllium. All other isotopes came later, created in supernovae and cosmic rays, and as time passed isotopes separated based on mass so that element isotopes vary with each planet."

The Chief nodded as she talked, obviously quite aware of all the theory, butprivy to some application she couldn't went on, "Isotopes were redistributed according to mass, so now the isotopic composition of elements varies slightly from planet to planet. That's how we can sometimes trace the origin of meteorites."

Again she stopped, still trying to fathom his intentions. She asked him, straight out, "What significance do these _primordial_ isotopes have for you? What are you looking for?"

The Chief didn't answer immediately, and then said, "You wouldn't understand. The significance is purely metaphysical."

For the moment**, **Carter gave up trying to understand andwent on with her search. She went through everything: planets found on the Abydos cartouche, planets discovered through Colonel O'Neill's Ancient repository download, planets learned through contact with the Tok'ra and destinations received from hit-or-miss SG unit explorations, looking for everything in the SGC database that would juxtapose prime habitable conditions with above-average isotope ratios. She would get several sheets of "the best" and then go for the best of the best. The system began spitting out planets:

P26-007 P2A-018 P2A-270

P2A-347 P2A-463 P2A-509

P2C-257 P2M-903 P2R-866

P2Q-463 P2X-005 P2X-338

P2X-374 P2X-416 P2X-555

While she worked she decided to try again. She talked to Clemm about the technicalities of isotope separation - for example, separating hydrogen and deuterium with the Girdler sulfide process, and separating uranium isotopes using gas diffusion, centrifugation and laser ionization. She was hoping to draw him in and draw him out, to get him talking and maybe tip his hand as to what it was all about.

Carter kept working, but the Chief said nothing to give a clue about his plans. She felt like she was working in the dark, clueless about where it would lead.

Major Carter had been talking but Clemm wasn't listening. Lost in thought, he reflected on goals he was sure she would never understand. Yes, he was looking for planet conditions with higher than average ratios of primordial isotopes. But what those conditions represented, was something he would never divulge to Major Carter.

They all supposed he was searching for a certain kind of planet while in truth the planet was secondary, the plane of existence primary. Clemm believed that a planet's primordial isotope ratio was indicative of elemental traces of past incarnations, the ancient traces of ascended beings.

o0o

The Chief left the room, leaving Carter to her work. Some hours passed as Sam worked but eventually she finished and the system had spun out the most promising planet destinations, listing them by their SGC designations. Out of a pool of about one hundred thirty or so prime habitable possibilities, seven planets ranked high enough in their isotope ratio compositions to stand out from all the others.

P26-007 P2A-018 P2A-270

P2A-347 P2A-463 P2A-509

P2C-257 P2M-903 P2R-866

P2Q-463 P2X-005 P2X-338

P2X-374 P2X-416 P2X-555

P2X-885 P2X-887 **[+1]** P3A-194

P3-575 P34-353 P36-231

P39-865 P3C-117 P3C-249

P3C-599 P3K-447 P3L-997

P3M-736 P3R-112 P3R-118

P3R-233 P3R-272 P3R-636

P3R-928 P3S-114 P3S-452

P3W-451 P3W-924 P3X-116

P3X-118 P3X-234 P3X-289

P3X-298 P3X-367 P3X-403

P3X-421 P3X-439 P3X-447

P3X-474 P3X-513 P3X-562

P3X-729 P3X-744 P3X-775 **[+1]**

P3X-797 P3X-8596 P3X-866

P3X-888** [+1]** P3X-955 P3X-984

P3X-989 P3X-4474 P3X-7763

P3Y-229 P3Y-294 P4A-771

P4C-452 P4C-970 P4F-221

P4G-881 P4M-328 P4M-399

P4M-399 P4M-523 P4S-161

P4S-237 P4S-559 P4X-131

P4X-233 P4X-347 P4X-636

P4X-639 P4X-650 P4X-884

P4X-947 **[+1]** P5C-353 P5C-381

P5C-629 P5C-768 P5R-357

P5S-117 P5S-381 P6G-452 **[+1]**

P6J-908 P6Y-325 P7J-989

P7S-441 P7X-009 P7X-377 **[+1]**

P89-534 P8T-365 P8T-474

P8X-362 P8X-412 P8X-873

P8X-987 P9C-292 **[+4]** P9C-882

P9G-844 P9J-333 P9Q-281

P9X-391 P9X-3971 PAS-A81

PB5-926 PGG-002 P4S-559

PJ2-445 PJ6-877 PQ-824

PT1-AA1 PWW-98C PX1-767

PX3-595 PX3-808 PX3-989

PX7-455 PX7-941 PX8-987

PX9-757 PXY-887 PY3-948

Of these seven, one was four times as rich in primordial isotopes as the others and was shown in Sam's printout as a "plus 4" [+4] planet. That planet was P9C-292.

She did a double take. Sam, like everyone else in SG-1, knew P9C-292. There were some planets whose designations you just didn't forget, planets so completely unique you'd always remember, even by their SGC computer designations. P9C-292 was one of those - it was where they'd met Oma Desala.

She knew immediately the Chief shouldn't go there, that it shouldn't be permitted. She wouldn't like to see a man like the Chief ever set foot on that planet and surely Daniel would feel exactly the same. And there was something else she found interesting in the data she'd compiled. One of the seven planets which had at least a [+1] ranking was P3X-775, another planet she remembered very well. P3X-775, known by some as Rillaan and by others asTaldor - after the people who controlled it, was another unforgettable experience. Going there had been SG-1's first stop on their way to Hadante, where they'd been imprisoned. She remembered very well the dire circumstances on Hadante, and how lucky they were to escape.

From this point on she wasn't working blindly. Once Sam saw the planet selection results, she knew she had to try something. She already had the fragments of a plan. Earlier, while watching the computer's selection process, she realized the system was analyzing, sorting and determining habitable, primordial isotope-worthy planets by upgrading its status for selection to a holding data-bank, ready for the eventual final printout. That is, the holding data bank originally registered as zero or empty, and destinations were being added while nothing was being subtracted.

Anyone who looked at the holding data-bank or final printout would see only additions of planets coming in, showing that their status had been "upgraded" as qualified for selection, not any subtractions. The only subtractions were from the general pool that had not yet been analyzed. She was sure the Chief wouldn't look at that - it was nothing but unwieldy raw data.

The very best qualified planets received an extra designation appearing as [+1], while one planet alone, P9C-292**,** received an extra designation as [+4]. No planet received a minus designation, just as no planet would appear as "subtracted" from the holding data-bank.

For Sam, this meant, first, that if she wanted to manipulate the data, she might possibly add but not subtract a planet as a destination. Additions, she believed, might be invisible to the final data holding bank or printout, while any subtraction, if it were even possible, would stand-out clearly, possibly even producing a glaring "error" message on the printout. Therefore, this meant she wouldn't be able to remove P9C-292 from the holding data-pool. P9C-292had to stay where it was.

Her next question: if a planet which had already been selected for the holding bank were selected again manually, by her, what would register? Might it "upgrade" the planet further, and add more "pluses" to the planet's status? That is,if she entered the planet's designation again, would it 1) duplicate in its entirety, making a second entry visible, which would be bad; 2) upgrade the planet with another [+], which was what she hoped would happen; 3) make no duplication and have no effect whatsoever, or 4) manifest something else entirely, something completely unanticipated?

There was only one way to find out. She was ready to give it a try. She had to work quickly but carefully. She manually entered the data for P3X-775, Taldor: no duplication occurred. But even better, just as she hoped, the [+] indicator "upgraded," inserting itself into the data and adding one more [+] for P3X-775 into the data holding bank. The planet was now a [+2].

She entered again, raising its status to [+3], but re-entering another time got no response. Apparently she could add and upgrade to a maximum of [+3] but no higher. Some built-in, invisible portion of the computer program held P3X-775 at [+3]. But why? Perhaps the program blocked additions that approached another planet's status when it was done artificially as Sam had done? She didn't know. The Edoran version of the SGC computer system was filled with glitches, quirks and eccentricities. When they installed the computer system here on Edora, it wasn't as if they simply duplicated or cloned Stargate Command's computer operating system. That would have been expensive.

Tampering with the planet selection process any further might put what she'd accomplished at risk; she hoped and believed she'd kept the change as invisible as possible to the Chief, in case he had the interest and the ability to analyze the data more closely. In any case, there wasn't time to explore the process any further - she'd overheard the Chief making comments to his men involving "time limits" or a "time frame" for his plans. The most important thing was that, assuming she and Daniel were on the same wave length, he'd now have another option.

The Chief had left Sam alone quite some time ago. When everything was printed she signaled the loyalist who was guarding her to get the Chief. She felt she'd done all that she could. The rest was up to Daniel. When the Chief arrived she told him, "Those planets marked [+1], [+3] and [+4] have a higher than average distribution of primordial isotopes."

He began scanning the printout, looking for the planets that stood out from the rest. The system had collected the planets with the most high-ranking isotopic compositions on a one-page printout:

P2X-374 P2X-416 P2X-555

P2X-885 P2X-887 **[+1]** P3A-194

P3M-736 P3R-112 P3R-118

P3R-233 P3R-272 P3R-636

P3X-729 P3X-744 P3X-775 **[+3]**

P3X-797 P3X-8596 P3X-866

P3X-888 **[+1]** P3X-955 P3X-984

P4M-399 P4M-523 P4S-161

P4S-237 P4S-559 P4X-131

P4X-233 P4X-347 P4X-636

P4X-639 P4X-650 P4X-884

P4X-947 **[+1]** P5C-353 P5C-381

P5C-629 P5C-768 P5R-357

P5S-117 P5S-381 P6G-452 **[+1]  
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P6J-908 P6Y-325 P7J-989

P7S-441 P7X-009 P7X-377 **[+1]**

P89-534 P8T-365 P8T-474

P8X-362 P8X-412 P8X-873

P8X-987 P9C-292 **[+4]** P9C-882

PX7-455 PX7-941 PX8-987

PX9-757 PXY-887 PY3-948

The Chief had his eye on P9C-292. Scanning through the list Sam gave him, he checked everything and again came back to P9C-292. He asked, "Does the [+4] designate what I think it designates?"

Sam answered, "Yes. Whether you rank by the highest ratio or by the most dense concentration of the isotopes you're looking for, either way, both are on P9C-292."

He looked up at Sam with satisfaction written all over his face. With confidence in his voice he announced, "Then that's what we want. And that's where we're going."

...

Daniel was sitting with Deputy Sparks at the console in the marshal's HQ. Sparks asked, "Dr. Jackson, you know the Chief from before?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Were you friends or enemies?"

"More like acquaintances, I guess. Believe it or not, we were once roommates. But we were never friends. It's kind of a long, dismal story."

"Strange character, the Chief."

"Well, the word _strange_doesn't quite ..." - crackling static from the radio interrupted, and then: "Griggs to Sparks."

"Go ahead, marshal."

"How are things going there?"

"Well, steady as she goes, I guess. Dr. Jackson's sitting here with me."

"Can you turn up the speaker so Dr. Jackson can hear?"

She turned up the speaker for Daniel and said, "Go ahead, marshal."

"We've got a group of some two hundred or so Edorans gathered on the east side of where the U-Tower used to be, in the direction of the Edoran village. They came out and described the latest situation there ... and I saw for myself what it was but it's hard to describe just how bad it's looking here. There's a cloud of heavy dust, soot and ... I don't know exactly what ... looks like green-black globs of particulates, spreading into the vicinity of the village. The Edoran villagers are scared and angry and I've got my hands full here. What's the latest there on the Gateroom?"

Daniel took some time, giving him a summary of how things stood.

"Dr. Jackson, do whatever you have to. Call me if you need to, keep me in the loop if you can, butthe bottom line is I'm on-board with whatever you decide. You're gonna have to call it as you see it."

Daniel accepted the role he'd taken on by default, but the whole situation seemed so crazy, so far-fetched. How could it happen that he'd arrived on this particular planet at this particular time only to find someone he'd known personally from his distant past? Was it just a coincidence, a bizarre chance occurrence, or was it the kind of thing Rachel would have linked with _synchronicity_: an improbable conjunction of events, more than coincidence yet beyond rational explanation? Daniel let his speculations go, he needed to focus and try to find options for his next encounter with Clemm.

...

O'Neill and Teal'c were still pinned down. They had settled into complete inaction, just waiting. Teal'c asked, "O'Neill, how is the bullet wound in your arm?"

"It's throbbing like hell but at least it's stopped bleeding. How's the foot?"

Teal'c had been trying to get his boot off but it was painful and he was having a hard time. He finally yanked it off and told O'Neill, "I should recover. It may take a few hours." He checked it again - it had stopped bleeding but there was some swelling and now he was having a hard time getting his boot back on.

O'Neill tried the stairwell door again - still locked. He banged on the door, then gave up. He looked up the stairwell and said, "They must _know_ we've been low on ammo for a long time already. Maybe they had orders not to follow us. Maybe somebody wanted us alive."

"Indeed, that seems to be true, O'Neill. But why?"

"I don't know, T. I wish I did. I wish I had a clue."

Teal'c pulled and pulled and finally managed to get his boot back on.

Jack: "I still say the Rooshians are behind all this. You'll see."

With the door locked into the 9th floor, they were completely isolated. They couldn't hear any PA announcements or access an intercom and their radios were out of action. A lot of time passed. They leaned back. They sat on the floor. Jack wondered if there was any kind of help on the way. They had heard nothing and knew nothing. He wondered and kept wondering, for the hundredth time in the last hour, where Sam and Daniel and Janet were - if they were alright, and about all the people who must have been in the U-Tower when it went down.

His thoughts went to the U-Tower blast, the people killed. And then his thoughts drifted ... at first to his son, Charlie ... and 'round and 'round and then to Laira. Jack sat there, wrapped in ragged thoughts and distracting memories. The projector in his mind ran the scene through his mind, over and over again:

"You must be very happy to be going home."

"No - come with me."

"I belong here."

"I'll come back - we still have that treaty to talk about."

"Of course, our two worlds are going to be friends."

His time with her seemed long ago, but at that time he'd almost accepted the possibility that he'd remain here on Edora and never see Earth again. Then, when Teal'c arrived like some Superman savior, he felt happy to leave; only later, it all became a tangled mess, a subject he'd avoided and kept on avoiding. He knew very well that Laira had wanted to have a child with him. What happened after he left was like some completely unknown chapter - and he had to know.

Teal'c had seen O'Neill in this kind of absorbed repose several times since they'd arrived on Edora. He understood what it was about. He knew O'Neill avoided the subject, but he knew he must try. Teal'c asked, "O'Neill, are you going to see her?"

This time, Jack offered no resistance. He answered, "Yeah. I have to see her. I _want_ to see her again, and I _have_ to know if there's a child."

"If there is a child, will you stay on Edora?"

"No."

"Would she come back with you to Earth?"

"No, but ..."

Jack had been struggling with himself. For a long time he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know. But now, being here, after all that had happened in the last few days, something had changed.

"I have to know," Jack said, and settled back into silence again.

They both sat there quietly, just waiting, hoping for some kind of change in the situation, for any change at all.

Some time passed. They leaned against the wall, then listened for sounds, then checked their ammo. They sat down on the floor, then got up, leaned against the wall again, saying nothing, just waiting. More out of frustration than anything else, Jack went to the door and tried it again. Yanked on it, banged on it, yelled at it. No response. He gave up and came back and sat back down.

Finally,Teal'c said, "We never discovered what Laira thought of the treaty."

O'Neill: "Well, whatever she might have thought, it's all come completely unglued."

Teal'c: "Indeed. I predict that no one will ever work the naquadah mines of Edora again. These are mines of discontent."

o0o

In the marshal's HQ, Daniel and Sparks were getting the same print-outs of the planet search information as Sam and Clemm got at the Gateroom. "Interesting," Daniel said quietly to himself, looking at the final printouts. The two highest-ranking planets for primordial isotopes, P3X-775 and P9C-292, were designated as [+3] and [+4], respectively.

Sparks asked, "What is it?"

Daniel: "I recognize some of these planets by their SGC designations. Apparently, the two highest-ranking planets for primordial isotopes, P3X-775 and P9C-292, have designations next to them showing _plus 3 and plus 4_."

Sparks wanted to hear more. She asked, "So?"

Daniel: "Hold on," as he continued his train of thought, feeling as if the flash of a light bulb had just gone off in his mind. He thought for a few more seconds and decided he'd got it.

Daniel continued, "Well, I wonder if Sam's thinking what I'm thinking. I wonder if she might have deliberately skewed the data ... for the specific purpose of giving me another option." Again he stopped, pondering the implications. He asked, "Where's the marshal?"

Sparks had him on camera. She said, "He's on his way to meet McKeller outside the Main Atrium. He'll be there in a minute."

Daniel told Sparks, "Let me run something by the marshal. I'll fill you in when I get back."

On his way out there, Daniel was thinking that this might be a game changer, that it was lucky he and Sam didn't have to communicate verbally to be on the same wave length. As he walked he reviewed what he'd tell the marshal. That P9C-292 was off-limits. That neither Daniel nor any other member of SG-1 would want to see Clemm escape to P9C-292. Because that planet was unique. That planet was Kheb.

Daniel went out through the Atrium and on outside, where the marshal and McKeller were waiting. The marshal greeted him with a warm but weary, "Dr. Jackson." The men looked at each other and then the marshal asked, "What have you got?"

"Well, Sam sent us the same information about the planets that she'll be giving the Chief. He's looking for the planets with the highest concentration of certain isotopes. It turns out, apparently, at least according to Sam's printout, that the two planets with the highest rank for what Clemm's looking for have the SGC designations P9C-292 and P3X-775. The first is Kheb with a _plus 4_, a planet declared off-limits by Stargate Command. The second is Taldor with a _plus 3_. There are five other planets too, but each one of them has only a _plus 1_ ranking. I think the second planet, Taldor, which has a _plus 3_, might have been added or manipulated by Sam specifically for our benefit, to help in case we're able to _persuade_ the Chief to go there."

"Why? What would she have in mind?"

"Well, it's _possible_, just remotely _possible_ the only other planet that can even come close to Kheb is Taldor - but I doubt it. I mean, the planet we'd least like to see Clemm escape to is Kheb; the planet we'd most like to see him go to is Taldor. What's the chance they'd end-up almost even in the data? It seems more likely that after Sam saw that Kheb would place first, she somehow manipulated the data to put Taldor close in the running. She probably tried to keep her change as invisible as possible, in case it might raise suspicions in the Chief's mind about her data."

The marshal was nodding as Daniel explained it. Daniel went on, "I don't know any of this for certain, but we know the Chief is looking for a planet with a certain atmosphere, one that has a high concentration of certain isotopes. But if there's nothing about P3X-775, Taldor, that completely rules it out for Clemm, and if he could somehow be _persuaded_ to go there, well, that could be the answer we've been looking for."

The marshal was trying to follow all this but responded, hesitantly, "Well, O.K. But how so? Why do we want the Chief to go to Taldor?"

Daniel answered, "P3X-775 is a more or less ordinary planet, from what's in the database and as far as what you'd see from any analysis. But that planet is dominated by the Taldor, and anyone who arrives there enters into an ancient grounds area that's been declared off-limits by them, so just coming through their Gate is already automatically considered an act of trespassing. Happened to SG-1 when we went there, about two years ago."

Daniel stopped for a few seconds, remembering their dismal experience with the Taldor, when he and the rest of SG-1 were held as prisoners.

He went on, "Yeah, I'm sure they'll be seen as trespassers. And it won't help, either, that Clemm and his gang will be armed with a lot of heavy weapons that'll make them look like a gang of rogues. Yeah, and lugging all those crates of naquadah too. Anyway, the Taldor have a beaming technology that can strip visitors of their weapons and whisk them to a holding area where the Taldor will judge them and pronounce them guilty of trespassing - I'm sure of it. The Taldor would have no reason to want to assimilate Clemm's gang into Taldor society. The Taldor will send them through their Stargate to Hadante."

"Hadante? Never heard of it. What happens if the Taldor send them there?"

"Hadante's a planet which has a Stargate located underground, inside caves deep below the surface of the planet. It's used as a prison for everyone the Taldor deem to be criminals. It's the perfect place for Clemm and his gang."

"Couldn't the Chief and his men just leave Hadante through the Stargate?"

"Hadante has no DHD or other power source to use their Stargate to escape. If we can somehow steer Clemm into going to P3X-775 they'll end-up at Hadante, and we'd essentially have Clemm and his men trapped and locked-up there."

"You know a lot more about this than I do. Bottom line though, I'd like to see that gang locked-up as much as you would. Sounds to me like it's worth a shot." He gave Daniel the thumbs-up sign and said, "Go for it!" He walked off with McKeller, back towards the U-Tower ruins and the Edorans waiting not far from there.

...

Back at the HQ, Daniel joined Sparks who was monitoring some of the 11th floor conference rooms which had cameras. These were on the sides and towards the back of the Gateroom. In one room, ten loyalists were sleeping or dozing, sprawled over chairs, tables and make-do bunks. In another room five or six more loyalists were doing the same thing. In still another room, Daniel and Sparks could see plates of food piled high on tables.

Eventually, Clemm came on camera again, placing a nicely-set plate of food on a table in front of him. He began eating his food and began talking while he ate: "What's the matter, are all you people on a hunger strike or something?" The Chief laughed a hearty laugh. He lifted his fork and dug in.

He said, "We've made excellent progress in our search for a planet. It appears that P9C-292 would fulfill my requirements. It will soon be time to make your decision about opening the Gate."

P9C-292. Daniel had expected as much. It was the last place Daniel wanted to see Clemm go. Clemm wanted Kheb but Daniel knew he'd never allow it, that it was a case of "over my dead body." At this point Daniel might have been bluffing but he said, "I can already tell you the answer to that. The answer is no. No deal."

Clemm looked mildly surprised. He said, "Jackson, my request is not really optional. Think of it as a formality. The planet we want and the planet we shall get is P9C-292."

Daniel had been doing some fast thinking and some fast calculating; he intended to steer clear of the truth about P9C-292. He said, "That's an unexplored planet. Any planet unexplored by an SGC unit is completely off-limits. We don't know what kind of effect a human presence might have on their ecosystem, regardless of the calculations you've made. We don't know what kind of damage you might wreak. There's no way we can let you go there."

Clemm stared into the camera, impassive, silent. Daniel waited, they both remained silent, as Daniel watched Clemm's reaction and Clemm stared unblinking into the camera.

Daniel said, "Look, we got the same information as you did on a printout from Major Carter and we can see that P9C-292, the planet you want, was designated with _plus 4_. We understand that P9C-292 has what you're looking for, but that's absolutely a no-go. However, P3X-775, which came in second with _plus 3_, _has_ been explored and we see that as a viable option and that's what we're offering."

Daniel stared at Clemm who was staring back, quite impassive.

"Look, Clemm, P3X-775 is a nice planet. Excellent, actually. It has some primitive people who keep to themselves and won't get in your way. Lots of room for development. Sunny, Mediterranean climate. You'd like it."

Daniel stopped and there was complete silence for at least a minute. Finally, Clemm asked, "Let me understand: your answer to P9C-292 is _no_ _deal_?"

"No deal," Daniel said firmly.

Clemm said, "No deal? Hmmm. Did you prefer the drug experimentation for Major Carter, or the strangulation?" Clemm motioned to a loyalist off camera, who brought in Major Carter. Again she was gagged, her eyes black and blue, her face more badly bruised than before, heavy red welts on her neck. There was a dazed look in her eyes, as if unable to focus.

"You can thank me for pulling my men off her, Jackson. Some of my legitimistas are rambunctious, enthusiastic - they get carried away.

Luckily, I arrived to save the day. I guess that makes me your benefactor, doesn't it? And hers."

Now Clemm was grinning broadly. Daniel found it hard to sit there stone-faced with Sam there on camera in that condition, but he did his best. He only wished there was some way he could wipe that smug, demonic grin off Clemm's face.

Clemm continued, "By the way,she's only lightly dosed with drugs at this point. Nothing that's permanently debilitating. In fact, the drugs probably have her feeling better than she would otherwise, right now, beneath all those bruises and welts. We'll save the heavier drugs for later, in case you need more persuading."

Daniel threw out at him, "You believe in reincarnation. What about all those people in the U-Tower? What about karma? What about the law of cause and effect for what you've done - aren't you concerned about that?"

Clemm sneered, "How dramatic. But actually, what you're referring to is simply ... not a factor." Then he added, thoughtfully, "Perhaps, at most, a minor consideration."

"Five hundred people dead in the U-Tower blast - not a factor? A _minor consideration_?"

Clemm remained nonchalant."I happen to know they were asked to leave the tower. They chose to stay - of their own free will. It was their own choice."

"You can't be serious. I don't understand ... do you even know the difference between good and evil?"

**"**From the light of full consciousness, on the highest ascended plane, there is no good or evil. From the standpoint of full consciousness, one stands beyond good and evil, now and forever."

"_Now and forever_, you're a maniac!"

"But that's not the issue now, is it? Let's not make this about me. Let's get back to Major Carter and P9C-292, shall we?"

Daniel thought, You _are_ a maniac, and yes, it _is_ the issue. But the cold hard truth was, he believed, that if Clemm were to kill Sam he'd lose his most valuable negotiating chip. Daniel said firmly, "No, no, no, the answer is no. You are not going to P9C-292."

Clemm stared at him and Daniel stared back. Daniel held his ground and said, "There's no way that's gonna happen."

Clemm took his time, he had cards to play. He said, "You know, Jackson, I know things. About what happened to Sha're, that whole, tragic story. Almost makes me want to cry." He made a face like he was pretending to cry, but then broke into a ridiculous grin. "I know other things too - like about Sarah Gardner. So sad, wasn't it? It's a damn shame. What if I told you that I played a role in what happened to Miss Gardner, what if I told you there was more to it than you ever knew?"

"You don't know anything."

"Don't I? You'd be surprised what I know. What was that other girl you used to know, Luanne, was that her name? I once overheard you talking with our friend, G.D., about _soul mates_, _twin flames_ - all that nonsense. I always thought, it's really a case of the attraction of the moth to the flame, isn't it?" Clemm laughed. "And you're the moth, Jackson." He laughed again. "Your old flame, your _twin_ _flame_, what was her name, Luanne? Something like that, wasn't it? Luanne, no, Suzanne? That's it, Suzanne Bek, wasn't it? How much would you like to bet I could get that girl - I've got all kind of contacts. I could easily find her, cause things to happen. You'd be surprised how easy it would be, I could get my hands on her and dangle her fate before your eyes, how would that be, Jackson? Bound and gagged might be appropriate. Soul mates, Jackson? Really. Old flame, twin flame, moth to the flame?" Clemm was laughing, he was toying with Daniel, taunting him.

"True love for an old flame,Jackson? Twin flame? Even after all these years, I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would you? Your _twin flame_, moth to the flame - what if I found her, then what?

Daniel glared at him, burning with anger, his hands fisted-up, hardly able to hold it in.

Clemm went on, "And what about your old roommate, Rachel?"

Daniel was inflamed now, almost shouting, "What _about_ Rachel?"

"Poor, dear Rachel. Wasn't she a dear girl? Sad, sad case. So young. So innocent. Or was she? Maybe I have some information, maybe it wasn't just an accident? Then again, maybe better not to say too much, might upset our boy wonder, our famous Dr. Jackson? Remind me again, what are you most famous for? _Your_ idea, was it, about the pyramids? Don't worry, I won't say anything, no one _I_ know ever wanted to go public with that idea anyway, except you. Wasn't ever intended for public knowledge, you should have known that, but then you've always been rather naive about such things, haven't you? Our naive boy wonder, who knows all about the pyramids, doesn't he? But I digress, what was I saying? Oh yes, I remember, how sad about your Rachel, your old roommate, poor innocent little Rachel. Poor dear, so sad. Poor girl, poor innocent Rachel, Rachel, Rachel ..."

Enraged, Daniel stood up and screamed at him, "You f ... freak! Get this into your frontal lobe - you're not going to P9C-292!" Daniel was furious, shouting and pointing his finger at him, "You're not going to P3X-775 either! You're not going anywhere!" He'd thrown away all restraint, "You're a goddamned freak of nature and you can go to hell!"

Clemm appeared taken aback for a moment - briefly surprised by the pent-up anger pouring out from Daniel. He knew he could get to him but the force of Daniel's rage still surprised him. Clemm quickly adjusted, becoming deadly serious: "No? Not going anywhere? Hmmm. You think so? Let me tell you something, Jackson, don't make me take this to the next level."

Daniel stood there glowering, teeth clenched, nearly shaking with rage, full of contempt for Clemm Crawford. He managed to spit the words out, "O.K., go ahead, tell me. What's the next level?"

"The next level will make Carter getting strangled or experiencing my _drug experimentation_ ... seem like child's play."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You'll know, when you smell gas in the G-Tower."

So, the hammer was down. Daniel understood the threat immediately, and made a quick assessment. "You'd destroy yourself in the process."

"I'm 35 years old, I'm well-prepared. This would be an excellent, let's say an _optimal_ time to move on. My survival has nothing to do with surviving a blast in the G-Tower. It's time to move forward, one way or another, _Plan A_ or _Plan B_, makes little difference to me."

**"**And your _legitimistas_?"

Clemm responded without hesitation:"They'll all join me, ascend with me to a higher plane. My legion will arise to a new consciousness."

"What are you talking about?"

"The legitimistas have all been _programmed_ for ascension. I've set in place in each man's psyche, _implanted _you might say, deep in each man's unconscious - the longing or _the drive_ for ascension. And the knowledge too. Buried deep in the archetypal Mind, deep and safe from any disturbance they might experience in transition through the after-life bardos."

"What?" Daniel was incredulous. "What are you dreaming of? A legion of ascended dark angels?"

"I never thought of it that way. But no, I think _Prometheans_ would be more like it."

Daniel knew the myth of Prometheus, who stole fire from Zeus and gave it to mortals. But Prometheus was punished for challenging authority, for crossing the old order Gods to help humankind. His reward from Zeus was to be chained to a rock where an eagle would gnaw at his liver for the rest of his unending existence.

As he talked, Clemm had gone right on eating. Clem said, "I'll make my preparations, that is, I'll get the gas in the stairwells so things are ready to go if needed - as soon as I finish my meal. There's no hurry. But let me ask you something, Jackson. Have you seen anything, since you've arrived on Edora, that would make you believe I'm a man of idle threats?"

Clemm took a few more bites of his meal, gathered his things, looked at his watch and said, "It's almost midnight. I'll return at 0100 hours. Don't disappoint me." He walked off camera.

...

Daniel left Deputy Sparks there in the HQ office and walked out into the Main were bunked-out there like people spending an over-night in an airport. Workers and Representatives side by side, mining-worker men and service-counter women all together out there on blankets on the floor. Some were sleeping, others talking, all of them hungry, all wondering what the next morning would bring.

Daniel made his way through the Atrium and went outside through the main entrance doors. He stood there, looking east, in the direction of where the U-Tower once stood, thinking long thoughts about their situation. On the one hand, when it first started, Clemm had the Gateroom; then he had Sam; and now he had the threat against the G-Tower. He seemed to be holding all the cards. On the other hand, Daniel couldn't let Clemm go to Kheb.

Daniel started walking - he planned to go and meet with Marshal Griggs, run things by him again. He liked talking to the marshal. Along the way thoughts of Kheb ran through his mind. Daniel had gone to Kheb with SG-1 looking for Sha're's child,the Harcesis. Oma Desala's protection saved SG-1 and the Harcesis child a long time already, since Daniel witnessed what happened on Kheb and learned of Oma Desala, he'd lost any skepticism he might have had about the idea of ascension; now, he was only critical of the possibility of someone like Clemm ascending. It seemed like an aberration of nature, a quirk of the laws of the universe.

When he thought about Clemm and his ideas and some of the things he supposedly believed, he couldn't deny Clemm had a consistency in the logic of his ideas and even a certain integrity insofar as he held to his so what? Even psychopathic serial killers had their own deranged logic, their own twisted rationale for what they did, and modern history was chock full of sociopathic dictators who were unrepentant, holding fast with consistency to their versions of reality. So what? Ultimately, men like these were still sick, evil or simply dead wrong.

When he'd met the marshal and they'd gone over it, their decision was to stick with the gamble and keep trying to bluff their way for as long as they could. Until, if, and when there were no other choice. Neither man wanted to let this monster escape and, from Daniel's way of seeing it, especially not to Kheb. Besides, what Daniel had told Clemm contained some truth: with Clemm searching for planets by reference to an "isotope ratio" with no explanation of why, they really had no idea what negative impact Clemm might have on a planet like Kheb, which was normally off-limits and which, if they were to open it to Clemm, would require a special authorization from Hammond, after the fact. Hadante was different, he felt, because it was underground, limiting any damage Clemm and his gang could do, making it the kind of prison perfectly suited for someone like Clemm.

Walking back to the complex, Daniel remembered his time at Hadante. It was a dark place, with no way out, something like thought, if Clemm were to go there he'd probably become the Lord of the Hadante underworld. How appropriate. That was Clemm's true destiny, Daniel thought, to be Lord of the Hadante underworld, it was the role he'd been studying for his whole life. If only Clemm himself realized that.

Hadante. Kheb. Sha're. Clemm's talk of "twin flames" had brought back old memories, of Abydos and Sha're, and Suzanne and Sarah Gardner too. Honestly, it had been hard. After losing Suzanne, and then the shock of Rae Rae's death ... after the emotional void that followed the pyramid experience, and then the break-up with Sarah, after all that, he'd felt so lucky to have found Sha're. Only to lose her too. He'd been so hopeful after getting Sandrine's help in Cyprus, but then as time passed it seemed to be one disaster after another, as if some dark fate were tracking him, following the women he'd known merely to conspire against him, as if some conspiracy of the universe was determined to separate him from the ones he loved most. Dark thoughts stepped in and mingled with his usual self and these days he sometimes wondered where his future with women could lead, because he had doubts, because in that regard he felt a heavy weight hanging over him, because Sha're was gone and how could he ever feel that way again? And once again his thoughts went to Abydos, the hot sun drenching everything, Sha're's sweet constant presence, her smile and look and sensuous caress. His time on Abydos with Sha're had been happy, probably the happiest time of his life, and if only ... if only ... his thoughts were interrupted when he passed some workers who'd been drafted as firemen, going to try and snuff out some smoldering ruins at a site near the old U-Tower. And soon after, asDaniel neared the complex, he ran into McKeller, who told him there was a report of the smell of gas in the G-Tower. The engineer was on his way to check it out.

Daniel had a feeling, just an intuition but he felt it strongly, that Clemm wouldn't kill Sam. He might drug her but he wouldn't kill her, he felt certain. She was worth more to him alive than dead. As for setting the G-Tower ablaze or setting it to explode ... well, that was an entirely different matter. 

17


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter** **14**

Daniel joined Deputy Sparks in the HQ and they sat watching the Gateroom monitors. There were several odd scenes in progress. In an 11th floor Conference Room off the side of the Gateroom, legitimistas were lined up, sitting on mats in silence, apparently meditating. In another room a group seemed to be practicing a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, also in silence. But in another room Indian or Tibetan or other exotic Eastern music was playing and following that, the sound of monks chanting could be heard. Daniel and Deputy Sparks watched as the music formed a background for the odd scene that played out next on camera.

The Gateroom was a very large room and, at one end, two loyalists were playing Russian roulette: they were standing opposite each other at about fifteen yards distance, one spinning the barrel of a revolver after loading one round, taking aim and firing at the other loyalist - then the other loyalist taking a turn. This went on for several turns. Crazy, Daniel thought, as he heard one of them say, "Spin that barrel good, Che." The man called "Che" grinned and gave it an extra spin. They were taking their time, about fifteen minutes passed. Then, finally, Daniel heard a shot fired - one of the loyalists was shot. There was a trickle of blood. But the shooter, "Che," was not a very good shot: the one who was shot had just a grazing wound, on the side of his chest. The one who got shot was laughing, almost as wildly as Daniel had sometimes seen Clemm laugh.

Daniel looked away at another monitor, then looked back again. He didn't see them, they'd finally moved off-camera. Apparently they'd had enough. Then again, Daniel wondered, maybe the shooter shot the other loyalist exactly as intended - maybe it was a perfect shot? Either way though, it was clear to Daniel that Clemm's insanity was infectious.

...

A half-hour later Che sat in a conference room with about a dozen legitimistas. He saw Elbanco sitting by himself in a corner, watching something on his portable DVD player. Probably something triple X-rated, he thought. Che paid little attention to Elbanco. His attitude towards him was that he was a good man, when he wasn't wasting time in one foolish way or another, such as all the time he spent gazing vacantly into space or, as more and more often lately, sitting watching triple-X movies. Che had seen him spend hours and hours sitting by himself, watching that trash on his portable player. He was addicted. Che had once told him, "That stuff will rot your mind," but Elbanco just laughed and ignored him.

Elbanco got up and said to Che, "I'm going to check on Miss Carter."

Che called back at him as the man walked away, "Make sure you leave her alone."

Che put Elbanco out of his thoughts. Soon they would all be leaving from here, moving on to a new planet, moving forward to a new stage in their struggle. He liked to remember how it started. Again he remembered the daytrip with the Chief to Mount Popocatepetl. That day, the Chief spoke of the Cause and his mission in life, which was a different kind of revolution that would someday benefit all mankind.

When they arrived they got out and walked all over the mountain, passing by three or four of the fourteen monasteries which lodged on the base of the mountain. As they walked the Chief talked of many things, including some of his plans. He remembered the Chief saying, "There are fourteen etheric cities," and how he pointed north, telling him, "There'll be help from ascended masters, from the etheric city which extends over the Arizona desert." Then the Chief pointed towards Mount Popocatepetl, telling him the calvary would follow: "Uzziel and Zadkiel and the Legions of the Eighth Ray."

The Chief painted the picture, as if revolutionary reinforcements were coming right then, over the purple mountains in the distance, rushing past the sage brush in the desert, up upon us, about to over-take us, a cloud of smoky red dust rising in the distance as riders rode forth below Mount Popocatepetl. They were coming, the Chief told him, "Malarepa and the Legions of the Sword of Blue Flame."

Driving back to Puebla that afternoon Che understood the Chief to be speaking metaphorically rather than literally but, it didn't matter, he believed in the Chief's vision and his Cause, he believed in it then and believed in it now in a way that had more reality for Che than anything else in the world.

Che realized that some of their friends believed the Chief's research and experiments were "no different than studying something like spontaneous combustion." That's how they put it. That it was a waste of time. That it was like a miner searching for fool's gold. But it wasn't true. Yes, the Chief talked of "activating the maximum synaptic potential," "electro-static energy flow" and the "alignment of our astral and causal bodies," and Che understood none of that. But what Che understood was that it all referred to achieving ascension and that ordinary people could experience it and not die and he intended to be one of the Chief's first followers to experience it.

Che respected the Chief as a man of the people, who wanted to bring ascension to ordinary men. "Every man and woman is a star," he used to say, quoting an Englishman he'd studied. And the Chief said, "No longer will ascension be something for an elite few, but will be available for everyone who wants it," and also, "No longer will there be a prohibition against taking action in human affairs."

The Chief had told him, "People believe that ascended beings cannot interfere in human affairs, but that's their rules, not mine. If we have enough comrades and enough ascended allies, we'll change those rules. I assure you, Che, we will not be playing by the old rules."

He also told him, "There's more than one ascended plane and more than one kind of ascension. People don't realize it but ascension is a broad term used to encompass a variety of transformation experiences. It's possible to return fully ascended and choose a new body. You become _ascended-in-the-flesh_."

Che knew this was the real nature of the Chief's research and experiments, funded by Adrian Conrad without Conrad's knowledge. Conrad made money with the mining and the smuggling while the Chief pushed forward and made progress in his own research. For the legitimistas and especially for leaders like Che, making money, having a family and living ordinary lives didn't mean anything, not then, when they started out, any more than now. No, all that mattered was the Cause. As the Chief always told them, "Let it be one for all and all for one, and one and all for the Cause."

...

Elbanco left Che and the others and found the woman from SG-1 guarded by Ramiro, a like-minded comrade. No one else was in the room. Elbanco felt like he'd been waiting a long time. He just wanted to talk to Miss Carter, and maybe steal one kiss. Elbanco initiated trying to talk to Carter, who had her hands tied behind her back and both her arms and legs bound to the chair. Carter wouldn't talk. She'd seen him before, watching her, staring at her, looking crazy. She didn't want to encourage him in any way. But Elbanco pushed ahead, pushed further, he just wanted to talk to her, have her recognize him, kiss her lips ...

But she resisted, and her resistance only inflamed him. He began pawing at her, groping her. She resisted but Elbanco's moves emboldened Ramiro who now joined in. Elbanco kept trying to kiss her and Sam tried to resist and defend herself, even bound to the chair, but she couldn't move away and they became rougher, pushing and pushing while she kept resisting. It got rougher and rougher, the men getting the idea that they wouldn't give up until she gave in or was completely subdued. Carter screamed in desperation, "No, stop!" but they didn't stop. Clothes were torn, partly ripped off ... it was getting ugly, until ...

The Chief walked-in on the disgusting scene. He slammed his fist down on a table and yelled out, "Elbanco! Ramiro!" - bringing the incident to a halt. Glaring at the men, he ordered them to a distant conference room and had them stay put, while he assigned new guards for the room holding the Major. Fortunately, Carter was shaken-up but otherwise unharmed.

The Chief walked away, processing the situation. He didn't blame the men. There would come a time, he believed, when even men like Elbanco and Ramiro would understand: that the masks of the masculine and feminine would eventually dissolve as one spent an extended time on the ascended plane. Unfortunately, that time was not yet.

He couldn't blame them, he knew the pull of physical desire was both powerful and natural and it would be folly to imagine it otherwise. Some of the men, those who'd followed him from Mexico to Arizona to Edora, hadn't been intimate with women for over two years. For a few it had been longer than that and, as Master Fu would have understood, they were dealing with the most powerful force in the universe, the erotic force of kundalini.

No, he didn't blame Elbanco or Ramiro or anyone else for what happened, it was simply the forces of nature at work and the circumstances in which they found themselves here on Edora. But of course, that didn't justify what happened and there would be consequences. Most important for their immediate situation, the incident confirmed a suspicion he'd had for some time: some of the men weren't ready. And that might mean it was time for Plan B.

...

In the stairwell, Jack and Teal'c remained trapped at the 9th floor landing, with loyalists above and below. It was a source of frustration that the door into the 9th floor was locked, because more than once they thought they heard footsteps and muffled voices inside. Yet maybe the sounds were something else? They couldn't be sure what the sounds were and they couldn't be certain there really was anyone inside on the floor. Every so often they would try the door, they tried knocking and then banging but nobody ever came to open it. The floor might have been evacuated but if not and anyone was in there, they never answered them at the door. Or maybe, like on the 5th floor, they simply didn't care? Jack and Teal'c didn't know.

Jack looked around, looking at the walls in the stairwell. The stairwell must have such a cavernous feel, Jack imagined, due to the odd-ball construction design - the tripling of the original architectural dimensions. The walls were painted a cobalt blue, and he saw that someone had painted drawings here and there throughout the stairwells.

Time passed. They started pitching some coins Jack had against the wall, playing a game Jack knew and explained to Teal'c. Jack asked, "Teal'c, what's the first thing you're gonna eat when you get back to Earth?"

Teal'c answered, "Ice cream."

"Yeah? What flavor?"

"Strawberry. What about you, O'Neill?"

"Cake. Chocolate cake. And ice cream. And a steak. And a beer." He thought about it. "Probably two beers." But the thought of such luxuries didn't cheer them much, their faces remained completely deadpan because such things seemed so far away, so completely remote.

As thehours passed, fatigue, or a bit of resignation may have set in. Being trapped there hadn't made them feel all was hopeless, but it was demoralizing nonetheless. Jack asked slowly, thoughtfully, "Teal'c, ever know somebody who committed suicide?"

Teal'c said, "Yes, many years ago, on Chulak. A Jaffa father and son were in service to Cronus. The father lost his son, who was killed in a minor battle, a skirmish with though Jaffa warriors are taught to think of one's death as always being close at hand, in order to give clarity to their lives, the father became fixated on death. No one could _bring him around_, as the Tau'ri say. Eventually, he drank a potion that induced his own death."

Jack nodded and was quiet for a minute, and then said, "I knew a girl once, met her after I graduated high school. She was a sister of a friend of mine. I went out with her a couple of times. Nice girl. Good looking, serious. Her family was very religious, they were Baptists. Bible people. She'd been brought up that way but she went through a period of searching, you know, questioning her religion. She lost her faith. She was the kind of person who just, well, just became completely disillusioned, depressed ... morbid, I guess."

Teal'c said, "Most people are unable to live without their gods."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Anyway, time passed. I had no contact with her for a number of years. Then, I heard what happened to her, from a friend of a friend. She intentionally drove her car off the interstate. Totaled the car, but she was O.K., just a broken arm. A year later she tried again, some different way, but again she lived. And then again she tried, there were a total of three different times, three different ways she tried to commit suicide, and each time she wound up alive and O.K. Finally, she gave up trying to kill herself. I never heard if her attitude changed or not, or what. But anyway, that friend who told me, said she met a guy, got married. You know. Went on with her life. Some story, huh?"

Jack had three sticks of chewing gum in his pocket. He took one and offered one to Teal'c. Teal'c took it, examined the wrapper, raised an eyebrow and said, "Juicy Fruit." He put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly.

Jack thought about everything that brought him here today, to this 9th floor landing in a mining complex on Edora. He said, "Teal'c, if you could change something you'd ever done, would you?" Jack was talking slowly, thoughtfully, trying to keep the frustration of being held captive at bay. He said, "Thing is, I guess if you change one thing you'd like different, there's no guarantee it won't change everything else too ..." his words trailing off.

Teal'c looked at him thoughtfully, again with an eyebrow raised.

Jack said, "It'd be that old thing about the 'Law of Unintended Consequences,' I guess. You'd like to change something, but if you do, well, other things might change, maybe something you didn't expect. You know, maybe you don't have your son, Rya'c. Or were ever a father at all. You'd have to accept that, if you want to change anything."

After a few seconds, Teal'c had an answer. He said, "I would change nothing."

Teal'c hesitated, but then asked, "What about you, O'Neill?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he got up and went to try the door again. No response. He kicked the door. He said, angrily, "I _know_somebody's in there. Why the hell don't they answer us?"

...

It was a few minutes past 0100 hours. Daniel sat with Sparks,waiting for Clemm to appear on camera. McKeller had called in and told them he couldn't identify the source of the smell of gas or find anything amiss. Marshal Griggs was still on board with Daniel's plan to offer Clemm and his loyalists Taldor, take it or leave it. It was all bluff though, because if ...

Finally, Clemm came on camera, Daniel noticing the typically malevolent grin on his face. Clemm was wearing a green military-type uniform, with black borders on the pockets and a red insignia over the left front pocket. He took his time sitting down, then wasted no time asking for Daniel's response. Daniel said, "Nothing's changed, the answer to P9C-962 is still no. Look, we're offering P3X-775, take it or leave it."

Clemm didn't interrupt so Daniel continued, again describing the natural assets of the planet, painting it like a prime piece of real estate while at the same time trying not to cross the line and paint it too thick. "The planet has all the natural resources you could ever want ... including naquadah."

"How much naquadah?"

"We noted its potential there during exploration but never scheduled a return trip to determine how much." Daniel, wanting to change the subject, continued, "But the beaches are pristine, and did I mention it's got a very comfortable, Mediterranean climate? It really does." Daniel deliberately hesitated for dramatic effect, then said, "The real issue for us is that there's no guarantee you and your men won't move on to some other world through the Stargate. But we feel we have to take that chance."

Clemm: "There's also no guarantee that SG teams or any other authority won't come for us on P3X-775 any time in the future and bring us in. Or find us and shoot us all dead."

Daniel didn't flinch. "I give you my word - no one will follow you."

Clemm gazed directly into the camera. He closed his eyes and more than a minute passed like that, Clemm sitting there, eyes closed. He might have been thinking or meditating, Daniel didn't know, but he waited. Then, Clemm's eyes still closed, Daniel saw the same insufferable, malevolent grin he'd seen before cross Clemm's face, until finally Clemm opened his eyes and again gazed directly into the camera, staying silent for another long minute.

With all the chips on the line**,** Daniel found it rather eerie. Then, unbelievably, Clemm said, "O.K., you win, Jackson. But I'll need to set some conditions."

Daniel was shocked; honest to God this was completely unexpected. Was he really capitulating? If so, well ... this was too good to be true. Daniel wondered, what was wrong with this equation? He asked, "What conditions?"

Clemm said, "We take our tools, our weaponry, the naquadah. Everything we have goes with us. We get your guarantee that no one will follow us. The Stargate must be activated at exactly 0300 hours; any delay abrogates the agreement. I'll leave first through the Stargate, then my men. When my last legitimista leaves, Major Carter is yours."

Daniel: "Why would you agree to this?"

"Because, despite what you may believe about my understanding of karma, I'd rather not see any more innocent bystanders hurt, if it can be avoided. Because P3X-775 seems to have a high enough ratio of primordial isotopes to suit our purposes. Because I have plans that will work on P3X-775 as well as P9C-292, a multitude of plans, none of which will be hampered by you, Jackson, or anyone else."

He stopped for a few seconds, as if taking stock of the situation, then continued: "As for Major Carter, let's just say I'm partial to pretty ladies and, believe it or not, I'd rather not see her suffer. Several of my legitimistas have been getting more and more rambunctious and frankly, they're likely to ... cause her some harm, unnecessarily."

Again he stopped, looking almost apologetic. He said, "The truth is, I never really wanted to see her manhandled - it's not my style."

Clemm was calm, looking satisfied, as if everything made perfect sense, as if everything was going according to plan. He said, "And besides, that Mediterranean climate you spoke of beckons. I've spent some time in Greece and some of the islands and I'd like to return to some place that feels like home." Clemm stared into the camera for a long minute, and then asked, "So, it's settled?"

Daniel wasn't about to push this thing any further. He answered, "We accept."

Clemm said, "We'll be ready to depart at exactly 0300 hours." He walked off camera.

...

Che and the Chief were sitting in an 11th floor conference room by themselves, the Chief looking through paperwork, Che lost in thought.

Che asked, "How do things stand, Chief?"

The Chief didn't hesitate: "Things are going as smoothly as ever, Che."

Che asked, "But Chief, we're fighting for our lives here, aren't we?"

The Chief focused carefully on what he wanted to say, talking slowly. He wanted to tell it like it really was, as much as possible. He said, "Che, let me explain something. The plan was always to continue the experiments here for as long as we could, for the benefit of every one of us. In fact, for the benefit of all men everywhere. Nothing's changed. We're going to do what we can, and then move on."

Che said, "Tell me again, Chief, about ascension. About how it works, what it feels like."

The Chief went over things he'd explained a number of times before. He liked explaining it, putting it in layman's terms for him, because he knew Che understood the importance of his research and because Che believed, really believed, like few others. For years Che had been like a rock of solidity behind him, backing him up through everything, and he knew the man would someday be rewarded for his rock-hard, unfaltering faith.

The Chief said, "Generally, people use only about ten percent of their brains. Ninety percent lies dormant, just waiting to be activated. Some few people, practicing meditation and following other special techniques, go through slow, incremental changes followed by a rapid, majortransformation. This process is limited by a _calculus_. You remember me telling you about the_ calculus_, Che?"

"I do, Chief."

"Well, the calculus can be adjusted by using bio-chemical agents as accelerants of consciousness. But ascending isn't easy, Che. First, one briefly experiences _avichi_, which is a pure, _waveless_ state that feels like death itself; but that is temporary, it will soon pass. One must _will_ to persevere and if the necessary acceleration and synaptic activity can be achieved and maintained, one will ascend. To put it scientifically, to ascend our physical brain must accelerate towards ninety percent synaptic activity and maintain that activation while _concurrently_ achieving an EEG level of at least .1 Hz."

The Chief paused for a brief second, looking to see what reaction his technical description was having on Che. He continued, "The most serious problem we have at this point, is that for untrained people such an activation of brain activity, which is an acceleration of consciousness, would lead to a _blow out_ under the strain of such intense synaptic activation. Your brain would fry."

Again the Chief stopped briefly, trying to see if he was connecting with Che, before continuing. "We need to speed it up but also cool it down, the way a nuclear reactor needs to be cooled."

This time, when the Chief paused Che jumped in, "And describe what it feels like, Chief, to ascend."

"What does it feel like? It feels like controlled ecstasy. Cascading waves of self-generated, electrostatic energy course through you, radiating out and producing a feeling of being completely free, like a powerful waterfall that's captured and under your total control. Your mind directs the energy flow into any configuration or mode you choose to take. You may become like an eagle, able to fly in your astral body or take any form you like, or even, eventually, take another physical body. Your imagination is the only limit. It's pure freedom."

Che listened, enraptured with his words. The Chief continued, "Now, mind you, you won't be all-powerful, but you'll become as close as possible to being a master of the universe. Think of it: a master, Che, no longer a slave! Total freedom! Haven't you always wanted that? Imagine the possibilities!"

The Chief paused, he knew he had to wrap it up, get on with his preparations for leaving. He said, "You know, Che, we had the financial backing here of one of the wealthiest men on Earth, Adrian Conrad, and we worked it for as long as we could, but I always knew that eventually our situation would change. Yes, it would have been nice to have more time. Because not all our men are ready to continue our great work on to the next stage. Still, let me assure you there is a plan that will cover us all; nobody's going to perish or be left behind for want of a plan. Trust me."

The Chief waved his hand and said, "Now, get out there, Che, and help direct the men moving our equipment out to the Gateroom. It's time to get this show on the road."

Che gave a friendly salute and left the room. He did trust the Chief; at that moment, his trust in the Chief was complete and absolute.

...

Clemm returned to a conference room which had no camera, reviewing the deeper truth of the truth was, the planet destination was part of the equation, but it was never the most important part. The most important thing, Clemm knew, was that the men be ready. But recent events, especially the incident with Major Carter, proved to him that at least some of them weren't ready. And if they weren't ready, trying to ascend was useless.

Because to ascend you had to want it. It wouldn't just happen naturally, on its own. To ascend required motivation and beyond that an act of will. All the mental deep conditioning and synaptic acceleration in the world wouldn't make a difference unless there was a freely-chosen act of the will. Therefore, if some of the men weren't ready, it would just take more time. He'd never let a man be left behind before and he had no intention of leaving anyone behind now. Their detour to P3X-775 would only be temporary.

As for the G-Tower, there was no gas in the Tower now, nor were there any plans for that at all; his men spread the smell of gas with a bionic smell generator, the better to fuel the fears of their opposition. Furthermore, what might surprisethemjust as much or more, he and his legitimistas had nothing to do with the destruction of the U-Tower. That the construction of the mining complex was full of sub-par work, due to irresponsible cost-cutting, was well-known. Perhaps there was a gas leak ... perhaps a meteor strike set it off? He could only speculate, just like anyone else. But if Jackson and everyone else preferred to believe he was responsible, all the better. And as for Major Carter - it was unnecessary to toy with her any longer. He'd gotten the information he needed.

Now, it was all about Plan knew all along it might come to this and it didn't faze him in the least. Clemm had half-expected to go with Plan B anyway - regardless of the answer from Jackson. Plan B was as good as Plan A, maybe better. The more he considered it, probably better.

Plan B: contrary to a prevailing belief, it was unnecessary to convert the physical body to pure energy to ascend. One could simply discard the physical vehicle, temporarily - its genetic code would remain attached to the etheric body as long as it was shielded - making it easier to convert the astral, mental, causal, and etheric bodies to pure energy. An accelerant drug was required, which would push his consciousness to the optimum synaptic activity; and timing was essential, as well as the method of execution. He was ready to move had to be instructions for the men.

The Chief briefed Che with as much of the plan's specifics as he considered worthwhile and afterwards gathered all of his legitimistas together, stood in front of them and went over his instructions for their move, trying to make everything perfectly clear. He told them: "We're going to a new planet, ready to leave at 0300 hours. We'll take everything we have here with us through the Gate. Now, this is very important: I'll go first. Don't worry if my departure through the Gate appears unorthodox. Rest assured, I know what I'm doing. I'll see you on the other side.

"After I'm gone, start bringing everything we have through the Gate. Follow Commander Che's instructions. Is that clear?" Everyone nodded 'yes.' He continued: "We have a maximum of thirty-eight minutes to get everyone through, but work quickly and go through as soon as possible. Ten minutes might be enough. Do you understand? Is it perfectly clear?" They answered 'yes.'

There were more instructions and then he said, "Now join me in a round for the Cause," and they all joined together in a sing-song chant: "One for all and all for one, and one and all for the Cause." The gang of legitimistas all clapped and cheered, long and loud and wildly. There were no doubtful faces and no one was holding back because they all had the greatest confidence in their Chief.

Then the Chief told his legitimistas, "You can look forward to your new home. You'll like it there. It has blue skies and a beautifully mild, Mediterranean climate."

...

There might be a hitch in all of this - for Carter. None of the legitimistas knew anything about the real meaning behind the Chief's "Plan B" but several of the men, led by Elbanco, had a plan of their own, one which the Chief knew nothing about. They planned to take Carter with them through the Stargate. Very simply, they were thinking their stay on P3X-775 would be more satisfying if it included female companionship and they imagined they had "claimed" the Chief had told them he'd go first through the Stargate, they'd have their opportunity to take her. Later, on the planet, if the Chief questioned the idea, they would make the case that she'd make a good hostage in case there were unexpected complications. Even if the Chief vetoed their idea, they could simply send her back through the Stargate. They didn't know their new planet had no DHD, that they'd be unable to send Carter back and unable to ever leave.

Soon, a good deal of Gateroom preparations activity could be seen on camera. Daniel and Deputy Sparks watched as equipment, weapons, food and provisions, crates of naquadah and all sorts of personal effects were being moved into position near the Stargate's ramp, where it could all be transferred through quickly. Sam could be seen at one end of the Gateroom, seated but no longer bound to the chair, blind-folded, hands tied in back of her, guarded by one of the legitimistas. Aside from the bruising, she looked pale.

Deputy Sparks got a call on the radio from McKeller, who told her, "Two of the Representatives camping out in the Atrium got into a fight, they actually got into a physical fist fight and they're still fighting. Now other people are getting into the ruckus."

Sparks asked McKeller, "You still have that Glock, right?"

"I do."

"Wait at the Atrium, I'll be out there in a minute." She got the megaphone and started out. She was disgusted and as she walked out the door she told Daniel, "If they don't respond to the megaphone, we might have to fire some shots in the air. Those idiots are acting like children!"

Daniel thought, they're just hungry. And tired. Then again, so was Sparks. But he was glad she was handling it, glad that on top of everything else he didn't have to go out there and deal with that. Even so, he hoped she didn't mean it literally - about putting some rounds into the Main Atrium ceiling. Might ricochet.

Meanwhile, high, swirling winds had come up on Edora, bringing another situation to deal with. With Sparks out of the room, Daniel got a call from the marshal: "Dr. Jackson, these heavy winds are whipping up the sooty particles that came off the U-Tower implosion. I'm seeing waves of black dust going airborne again ... and that muck smells like sulfur. What's the main component in acid rain?"

"Well, yeah, I think sulphur, sulfur dioxide, something like that. But Sam said Edora's got all those mercury agents too, maybe they're mixed in? It sounds bad."

"It _is_ bad. They've got animals getting sick, their plants are wilting ... you should see it out here, you wouldn't believe it."

Daniel hoped he didn't have to see it. He asked, "What are you planning to tell them?"

"I don't know what to tell them. For now, anything that will keep them from starting a small riot. I'll think of something."

The marshal signed-off. Daniel sipped some of his coffee, compliments of McKeller's stash. It was the only thing keeping him going. Daniel fought off the feeling that they were fighting a losing battle. The reason they'd come here, to help keep the mining agreement alive, was probably a lost effort, but that didn't matter much anymore with so many lives lost in the U-Tower blast and so much destruction here on the planet. Would the damage be irreparable? There were hardly any bright spots on Edora - except that Clemm was leaving.

...

Neltone was sitting on a stool in the Gateroom, his hands tied behind his back. The Chief had announced,** "**Anyone who wants out of our plan to go to P3X-775, can stay. There will be no retribution." But Neltone was the only one staying and, of course, no one trusted him.

Neltone was fully aware and proud of the prestige he'd gained working in the Gateroom. Although many Edorans had been through the Stargate, it had been just that one time, when they went to Earth last year when the fire rain caused so much destruction. His cousin, Laira, had never gone through at all. He himself had gone through five times, going to Earth as part of his Gateroom training. On his first couple of times he was a little unsteady and even felt a little sick, but already he managed better by the third trip. In fact, by the third trip he actually found it rather exciting. It was a pleasant memory, it gave him a sense of accomplishment. He, Neltone, an ordinary Edoran, was someone who'd traveled the universe. The members of SG-1, who were like heroes to him, went through all the time, almost every day, he thought. But at least he'd gone through more than once and how many people could really say that?

He sat there on his stool, a captive, looking at the Stargate. He liked to think he knew a lot about it; at least, compared to other Edorans. Everyone on Edora knew that a Stargate wouldn't work if it were buried, as happened after the Fire Rain about a year ago, and that a Stargate could be moved, as they'd done here on Edora after building the mining complex towers. But he knew other things too, little facts that other Edorans didn't know: he knew that theirStargate here weighed 64,000 pounds - he didn't know whether there were any other Stargates that weighed more anywhere else. He knew it was constructed of naquadah, the densest element that exists - it was even more dense than gold, and of course his own planet of Edora was rich in naquadah. He was sure naquadah must be the most valuable resource in the universe because it had so many uses, especially as an energy source to power all sorts of technologies.

In classroom training on Earth he'd learned about wormholes. Travel through a Stargate was only possible because a Stargate actually created a wormhole from one point to knew that a wormhole could remain stable for a maximum of thirty-eight minutes, and that for a person to enter the "flush," the vortex of a new, unstable wormhole meant instant death - "disintegration" was the word an instructor used.

He'd learned all about glyphs and chevrons. He knew that dialing a planet required a six-glyph sequence, plus one glyph representing any point of origin. "There were 1.9 billion possible combinations," he'd been told, that could result by combining the six-glyph sequence plus the one point of origin. That's why, at least in this galaxy, though there were probably only a few hundred or even at most a few thousand planets with Stargates, it would be useless to try dialing at random.

He'd also heard that the average time to go through the Stargate from one planet to another was just 3.2 seconds. During that time a person going through was unconscious. But now, he imagined, he'd probably never go through a Stargate or activate the Gate again. It was all over, the whole endeavor washed away, and his dreams too. At least, now everything was settled. The Chief and his men would depart at 0300 hours. They had reached a resolution - and no matter what happened to his own fortunes, Neltone would take great satisfaction in seeing them go.

...

The Stargate would be activated at exactly 0300 hours, and at 0258, Clemm stood on the ramp to the Stargate, preparing. He wore his archbishop's vestments, the "cloak of invulnerability" as he'd described it to his men. It was time to execute Plan B: Clemm wasn't going to P3X-775, at least not yet; going there straight away would leave too much unknown, too much under someone else's control.

He was tracking the time: 0259 hours. The wormhole itself would function as a power source, provided he had a shield. Many years ago Master Fu had explained the proper use of a _merkabah vehicle_ as a protective shield, and he was well prepared. Also already accomplished: the perfect alignment of his etheric, mental, astral and causal bodies.

0300 hours. It was almost time. The Stargate's inner track of glyphs began rotating, chevrons locking. The seconds ticked down as the drug combination worked, accelerating consciousness and pushing synaptic activation over ninety percent. Now was the time. His ascension was at hand.

Clemm motioned to Che to open the intercom. Then Clemm, walking on the ramp towards the Gate, yelled out to Daniel: "You think I'm crazy, but just remember, Jackson, I was right about the pyramids."

As the Stargate completed activation and _flushed_ ... Clemm quickly moved forward and stepped into the unstable vortex. He disappeared from their sight, disintegrated. 

11


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter** **15**

The legitimistas followed the Chief's instructions. They didn't know much about unstable wormholes or, if any of them did, they might have thought the Chief knew what he was doing and was invulnerable. Or else they didn't know anything had happened to him and assumed he had gone through the Gate and would meet them on the other side.

They wasted no time. Within a minute after they'd watched the Chief disappear they began moving themselves and all their materielthrough the Stargate. If they worked fast, they estimated, their move through the Gate would take no more than about ten minutes. Che stood close to the Stargate, he would be going through with the first group so he could help with all the incoming naquadah and equipment on the other side. The Chief had never said anything at all to Che about the incident with Elbanco, Ramiro and Carter.

Elbanco and Ramiro would be among the last to leave, planning to take "Miss Carter" with them. The others bringing up the rear also included the legitimistas who'd been guarding SG-1 in the stairwell, and Troyan, the lead Edoran Gate Operator. Elbanco and Ramiro didn't care about Troyan or fear any interference from him, since he had no authority over them. Troyan could come with them but as an Edoran he wasn't seen as really being one of them, as being a true legitimista.

Minutes passed as Elbanco and Ramiro watched everything proceed according to plan. They would linger behind just long enough to complete the job and then be gone, their mission complete and on the other side with the rest of their group by around 0310 hours.

In the stairwell,Jack had been dozing, woke up, then dozed off again. All was quiet there in the stairwell until, finally, Teal'c shook Jack's arm: "O'Neill! I believe the Chief's men are no longer holding in the stairwell above us." Jack quickly roused himself, becoming conscious of where he was. Teal'c said, "I can not be sure about the floor above, but it is certain they are gone from the floor below."

Unknown to them, at 0305 hours exactly, according to plan, the last legitimistas had slipped away from their positions in the stairwell and made their way quickly to the and Teal'c were no longer under guard. The time was now 0308 hours. Jack asked, "What d'ya think, Teal'c - up or down?" They had a decision to make; they could go down the stairwell, find out what was going on, or go up with their injuries and the little ammo they had left and, if that wasn't enough, probably run into a battle at the Gateroom. Teal'c knew the pros and cons as well as Jack but didn't hesitate at all: "We should go up." Jack answered, "Yeah, let's go," as they started up the stairwell to the Gateroom. Both men had their mission firmly in mind: to get to the Gateroom.

Some minutes ago, Elbanco and Ramiro had retrieved Carter from where she'd been held in a conference room and brought her in to the Gateroom. They put her in a chair in the center of the room and kept her blind-folded with hands tied. Over by the Operator Console, Troyan, the Edoran Gate Operator who was going with the legitimistas to their new planet, had been standing not far from Neltone and now moved closer. It might be the last time he'd ever see another Edoran, he wanted to say goodbye, but Neltone spoke first: "So, you're going with them."

Troyan answered, "Yes, and you should come too. There's no future for you here."

Neltone: "Even if I wanted to, the legitimistas don't want me, they don't trust me."

Troyan: "You think they're going to trust you here? They'll be suspicious, you'll be associated with us even if you don't deserve it. Edorans, the marshal's group, everyone will see you as neither with them nor against them. You'll end up in _quicksand_" - which for Edorans also had the meaning of _limbo_.

Neltone looked at him hard and said firmly, "I'm staying."

Troyan walked away, he didn't want Elbanco and Ramiro to associate him with Neltone. Neltone was glad when he walked away, he didn't want to be associated with Troyan. Watching Elbanco and Ramiro bring Major Carter out to the Gateroom, Neltone realized they were planning to take Major Carter with them, which worried him, made him angry and made him feeluseless,tied up as he was. He watched helplessly but any move on his part, he realized, and one of the legitimistas was likely to shoot him without a second thought. They didn't care at all whether he lived or died. He stayed put - there wasn't anything he could do.

A few more minutes passed full of busy traffic through the Gate and by 0310 hours all the other legitimistas had gone through the Stargate. After gathering the last of their belongings, Elbanco and Ramiro were finally ready to go and they came for Carter.

Sam heard the Stargate activate some time earlier and sensed what was happening. In fact, she was sure they were planning to take her through the Stargate, destination unknown. The drugs she'd been given had worn-off and there was another thing she was sure about: whether the destination was Kheb, Hadante or some other planet, she wasn't about to go quietly. She had her hands tied behind her back and she was blind-folded, but her legs were free and she wasn't tied to the chair. She braced herself and got ready to move. She had to try.

As soon as they touched her she sprang at them. She snapped her head under Elbanco's chin, surprising him and knocking him off balance, then reached in and scraped her forehead against his shoulder, pulling the blindfold off. Now at least she could see. Still up close to Elbanco, Carter delivered an uppercut knee to his groin which doubled him over and then launched a hard kick to his torso, which knocked him flat on his back.

She twisted and turned to face Ramiro, who was warily approaching her. From the ground Elbanco yelled, "Get her legs! Get her legs!" Ramiro shot back, "I'm trying, I'm trying!"

Her legs were dangerous weapons and could do some serious damage. As Ramiro moved in, she stood her ground, moved closer to him and feinted the kind of uppercut knee on Ramiro she'd used on Elbanco. As he reflexively leaned to protect himself he was vulnerable to Carter's next kick, a high sidewinder that caught him hard on his side, making him grimace in pain and pushing him back. But he was still on his feet and Elbanco was up again, too.

As Elbanco moved forward Carter used her legs to shove the chair she'd been sitting on at him, hitting him in the shins; "Damn it," he swore loudly, recovering and moving forward again, as Ramiro recovered too and came back from the other side. She kicked hard at two piles of belongings the men left stacked on the floor, scattering them in front of Ramiro and as dozens of small items flew everywhere he slipped and fell to the floor. From the other side Elbanco came up and landed a punch to Carter's back under the kidney, making her wince, but she whirled and hit him full with a strong sidewinder, followed by a shoulder to his back that again knocked him to the floor. Only problem was, Carter slipped too on some of the loose equipment scattered underfoot and lost her balance, so now all three of them were lying on the floor, each one of them now taking a couple of seconds breather to regroup.

By 0311 hours, with Sam, Elbanco and Ramiro splayed out on the floor, Jack and Teal'chad reached the door to the Gateroom on the 11th floor. They planned to slip through the door quickly, using the badge keys issued to them when they got to Edora. Those badges gave total access, so they wouldn't need to be buzzed in and would hold the element of surprise. But when Jack tried his badge the door didn't budge; the reader said, "Disabled." Jack said, "Teal'c, try yours." Teal'c tried but it was also disabled. Assuming that Clemm and his men were inside, banging on the door didn't make sense. They considered going back down ... it was now 0312 hours.

Inside,Troyan saw what was happening but at first didn't want to get involved. He stood by watching it all, not caring about Carter one way or the other; then suddenly changed his mind and called out, "I'll help you with her, Elbanco. Let me help," as he quickly walked towards realized he'd score points with the legitimistas if they saw he'd stand with them when they needed his help. As Troyan joined the scuffle, everyone else was now back on their feet, ready to go at it again.

Elbanco and Ramiro realized too late they should have tied Carter's legs while she was still drugged and just carried her in; as it was, the situation was getting messy, they were wasting valuable time. But they were determined and had no intention of giving up. Elbanco and Ramiro came back at her and this time avoided her legs because they now had Troyan coming at her from behind. They closed in and finally got hands on her but Sam moved in close and bit down hard on Troyan's ear - he screamed and swore loudly! pulling away. Sam quickly twisted and pushed into Elbanco who collided with Ramiro, and as those two fell back a few steps Sam suddenly let loose a scream that shocked Troyan into a frozen stare. She turned and leaned in towards him and Troyan backed away, scared stiff of the woman, even with her hands tied behind her back.

Jack and Teal'c reacted after hearing Sam scream inside the Gateroom. They started blasting their guns at the lock and throwing their weight against it, but still couldn't get in. They tried shooting at the card-reader ... nothing moved. Sam heard the shooting at the door and screamed again; they heard her scream again and they kept on shooting at the lock.

Elbanco and Ramiro weren't giving up. They went after her again ... trying to ignore the Gateroom door, concentrating on trying to drag Carter into the Gate, with Troyan joining in once more. Ramiro threw a large wooden box at Carter's legs that tripped her up. They rushed at her and grabbed her, holding fast this time, finally dragging her towards the Stargate. She struggled and the men had their hands full with Carter but they weren't giving up, not when they were so close. It was 0313 hoursand everyone else had gone through the Gate except Elbanco, Ramiro, Troyan and Carter.

Neltone, looking on, could see Major Carter with hands tied behind her back, kicking and biting and screaming and fighting off the three of them, but now they were dragging her closer and closer to the Stargate. He saw everything that was happening but still felt completely helpless. Then Neltone heard the shooting and banging on the Gateroom door outside. If he moved he risked getting shot, but if the legitimistas were preoccupied enough with the Major and if help was now just outside the door ... he thought he had to try, this might be the only chance he'd get to help. Yes, he had to try, and if it came to that, he decided he'd risk his life to save any of the heroes of SG-1. As the Major kicked and screamed and the shooting and banging on the Gateroom door continued, Neltone saw his chance. It would only take a few seconds to reach the remote card reader that opened the door to the Gateroom. The Chief's men had confiscated his badge key, but for the Edoran Gate Operators there was another option: the badge key readers at the Gate Operator's console could use a biometric identification system activated by a Gate Operator's fingerprint. But with his hands tied behind his back, getting it to work might be tricky.

Neltone slid off his seat and shuffled the ten or so yards to the console reader, so far still unseen by the others. He managed to get there and, with his back turned to it, inserted his finger into the print recognition reader. It wasn't working. He tried again, nothing. He squirmed to reach the right position, to get a good fit, and tried again. This time it worked. He'd just managed to open the Gateroom door ... before a bullet from Troyan's revolver hit him in the chest, and he fell to the floor.

As the Gateroom door opened and Jack and Teal'c rushed in, they saw that the loyalists now had Sam by the legs so she couldn't kick and realized they were dragging her towards the Stargate. With the loyalists slowly backing up and dragging Sam, Jack and Teal'c moved straight ahead, guns raised and ready to fire as they moved forward.

As SG-1 moved in Ramiro was looking on, estimating his chances if he stayed any longer. In a flash he decided to give up on Carter and made a dash for the Stargate. He ran through. Troyan had his gun out after shooting Neltone, which was bad for him, because Jack's first three shots were dead-on center, two to the chest and one to the head. Troyan was finished. Elbanco was backing up into the Stargate, still dragging Carter by the legs.

Jack called out, "Hey! Listen, just let Major Carter go ... you can go free, just let Carter go."

But Elbanco wouldn't let go, even with guns pointed at him - he wanted Carter and kept dragging her while backing up towards the Stargate, only one or two steps to go, until finally ... Teal'c fired a round into Elbanco's left leg. In pain, Elbanco lost his grip on Carter and finally let go but kept his balance, managing to keep his momentum going just enough to slink off into the Stargate. Elbanco had escaped.

But Jack and Teal'c had Sam.

It was 0315 hours. It was over. 

5


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The next morning found Marshal Griggs supervising the movement of thousands of people through the Stargate back to their home worlds. The excavation and clean-up of the U-Tower grounds and surroundings was already in progress, and plans were being laid to reverse the immense damage to Edora. There would be a coordinated effort; at least they would try.

But Marshal Griggs himself was done, finished with Edora, per his own request. He'd contacted the chief administrator and asked to be relieved of duty as soon as possible. His request was approved and he'd been informed a replacement would arrive within two weeks. He'd talked with Sparks and she was looking to get out too, but her request was so far still in limbo. She told Griggs, "Before you leave, let's set up some kind of memorial for Green." Griggs told her yes, he'd been thinking the same thing.

Griggs couldn't wait to get back to Southern California, to the gritty streets he knew so well, the rough L.A. neighborhoods that were home to him. It wouldn't be long, he thought. It had been nine long months since he'd last seen his wife, and he was counting down the days.

o0o

Daniel and Sam were on the G-Tower's second floor, sitting in the medical office talking with Dr. Frasier. Sam asked Janet, "What about Neltone?"

"He's lucky to be alive. He was seriously wounded but he should make a full recovery."

Sam said, "He deserves a reward."

They all said yes, he deserved it for his heroic, unexpected role. Sam's good condition was unexpected too. Earlier, when Sam underwent a check-up with Dr. Frasier, they'd all been surprised to find out that her dark bruises and red welts were all purely cosmetic, applied with makeup. Even Sam was surprised, because she'd been mildly drugged for various periods of time, too "out of it" so much of the time that she hardly took notice of the marks on her body. And without access to a mirror, she'd never even known how she looked.

Janet asked, "So Clemm raised the ante using Sam without actually physically harming her. Strange character, that Clemm."

Daniel, being facetious, ironic and disdainful all at the same time, answered, "Yeah, _strange_, I guess that's the word."

Daniel's thoughts about Clemm were in flux; there was a lot he was still trying to sort out. He said, "So, it was really another suicide, this time a suicide by Stargate."

Sam said, "Or technically, I guess, suicide by unstable wormhole vortex."

Daniel, pondering it all, said, "Unless ..."

Sam and Janet both asked, "Unless what?"

"Unless he didn't really die. Unless somehow he survived and still exists on some other plane."

Sam and Janet just looked at Daniel, incredulous, amazed that he would even entertain the notion that Clemm could still be alive. Sam asked, "You said you saw him completely disintegrate in the vortex. You really think he could have survived?"

Daniel wasn't sure what to think. He answered, "I don't know. Right now, I wouldn't reject it out of hand." He decided to put it out of his mind and said, "I'm just glad it's over," leaving it at that.

Sam asked Janet, "I want to visit Neltone, is he awake yet?"

"Yes, he should be. He's in the room right next door."

Sam said, "To me, he's the real hero. I might be getting ready for dinner right about now on Hadante, if it wasn't for him. He risked his own life for me." Sam paused, thinking, and then said, "I really think Neltone deserves a reward. What do you think he would like?"

Janet volunteered something: "I have a pretty good idea of what he'd like - a job with SGC."

Sam said, "Well, who knows? I can look into that. I'll talk to General Hammond." In the meantime, she planned to give him a big hug and a kiss. She left the room to go see him.

o0o

Outside, behind the marshal's HQ, Jack and Teal'c were talking. Jack stood next to a Segway, getting ready to ride out to the village. Jack had been listening while Teal'c told him about his plans. Teal'c said, "I've volunteered to stay on Edora for an indefinite period, O'Neill. My offer to stay and help the Edorans with their environmental reclamation plan has been accepted."

"What about your job with SG-1?"

"General Hammond has also approved my request. It will be a temporary assignment, but I feel I must do what I can to improve their circumstances. The heaviness I would feel if I were to leave now would be very hard to bear."

Jack understood, and he'd be glad if Teal'c could find some comfort and some closure through helping the Edorans. He put a key in the vehicle and started it up.

Teal'c knew O'Neill was on his way to visit Laira. With an eyebrow raised, he asked, "Do you want company, O'Neill?"

"No, I'm good." He got on the Segway and got ready to go. He said, "Take care of yourself, T."

"Indeed. Take care of yourself too, O'Neill."

Jack leaned forward to accelerate and rode on toward the Edoran village.

o0o

In the cold, black void of space the merkabah vehicle hovered, floating in an unseen corner of the fourth ascended plane. Inside, the spheres of astral, mental and causal energy formed a matrix which had already ascended but remained in a state of quietude, appearing as if transfixed in suspended animation. In actuality, all systems were awake and fully conscious, in development, ripening.

The spheres of energy existed as a complete matrix, lacking only a physical body. The etheric template was a prototype for the physical but required an infusion of dense matter: oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, that is, all the common elements and especially, a concentration of the primordial isotopes: hydrogen, helium, lithium and beryllium. The template required a physical environment and the transcendental coordinates for its planetary destination were fixed in astral consciousness.

The ultimate conversion would come soon - within three days. The etheric template rotated on its axis, slowly positioning towards a new incarnation, towards ascension-in-the-flesh. Of the several laws that pertain strictly to the ascended planes, the most important of these was about to be tested. The far-reaching consequences could hardly have been foreseen. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 – Coda.**

Some supplies had come in and Daniel had gone out to get coffee for himself and Janet. Janet felt as if Daniel wasn't quite himself, that he seemed to be brooding again. She wondered if he might still be thinking about Clemm - whether "the Chief" might have survived, whether he'd be back. But she wasn't going to bring it up, because she knew Daniel was sensitive to any subject that involved Clemm. She decided to try to redirect his attention, maybe see if she could get him thinking about something more positive. Anyway, the subject she wanted to talk about with him was something she'd been thinking about for quite a while.

Daniel came back and sat down, trying to relax with his first really fresh cup of coffee in a very long time. She let him settle into his chair for a minute, then asked him, "Daniel, these three women, Suzanne, Sarah, Sha're ... what do they have in common?"

Daniel thought about it, wondered what she was getting at, looked back at her with a quizzical expression on his face.

"You know, Daniel, I was thinking. I bet there's someone out there for you, even someone with some special, you know, _cosmic connection_, whose name _doesn't_ begin with the letter _S_.

Daniel gave a chuckle, quickly flicking the names through his mind. He chuckled again and said, "I never thought about that."

Janet said, "I know someone. Well, I've only met her twice, but she's a younger sister of one of my nursing school friends. She doesn't know about the Stargate program but somehow she knows about you. When she heard I worked with you she said she'd like to meet you."

Janet looked at Daniel, waiting to see his reaction. She said, "I think you should meet her."

Daniel, sipping his coffee, mumbled vaguely and absent-mindedly, "Ummm, well ..."

Janet couldn't pin it down but there was just something about her friend's sister, and it wasn't just her background in anthropology. Yes, she thought, Alexis was a perfect match for Daniel.

Janet said, "Her name is Alexis. She's a graduate student in Colorado Springs. She spent three months in Egypt, studying hieroglyphs in the temple at Leontopolis."

Daniel just said, "Leontopolis?" He knew the temple there, which was dedicated to Sakhmet. He was well acquainted with Sakhmet, the lion goddess of Upper Egypt who led the pharaohs in warfare. He asked, "I wonder if she's researching the lion goddess, Sakhmet?"

"I'm not sure, but that does sound familiar."

Daniel responded with a bit more interest, "Yeah? How old is your friend's sister?"

"Twenty-seven."

Janet thought Daniel looked brighter, as if he were opening up a bit. The more Janet thought about Alexis, the more convinced she was that Alexis would be perfect for Daniel. She told him, "Her sister calls her _Lexi_. Daniel, you definitely _must_ meet Alexis."

Daniel laughed and asked, "Yeah? Why, you think she might be _twin_ _flame_ material?"

"Oh, absolutely!"

Daniel laughed again. He knew Janet was just light-heartedly trying to spark some interest, while at the same time seriously offering him her encouragement. It had been two years now since Sha're was gone. Janet was right - it was time to try to move on. Sha're would have wished it for him. Yes, and one thing still mattered, one thing he knew. He could still love. 


End file.
